


Can you see me glowing?

by StrikerEureka



Series: Loved you from the start [3]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Inflation, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fights, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Implied Mpreg, Intercrural Sex, Knotting, M/M, Riding, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrikerEureka/pseuds/StrikerEureka
Summary: Otabek rents an apartment for he and Yuri to share for the summer. They have a lot to learn about one another and about being together. Mostly, they just get to be happy with one another.Yuri can still hardly believe that they’re here together. That Otabek gave up his summer in Almaty to come to St. Petersburg with him. That this is their apartment until the end of August. He grins and curls his toes in the sheets.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [umakoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/umakoo/gifts).



> I still know next to nothing about ice skating, despite my best efforts to research. I'm a hockey fan, though, so the actual skating part is about all that's familiar to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy what my friend and I have called ~The Summer of Love~ the entire time it was being written.

Heavier curtains are the first things they’re going to buy for this apartment, Yuri decides when he comes awake in a too-bright bedroom. Heavy, blackout curtains. He rubs at his eyes with a groan and rolls onto his back, relishing the feel of the expensive, high-thread count sheets Viktor and Yuuri had given them as a house-warming gift. Which Yuri privately thinks is ridiculous considering they’re only leasing the apartment until September, but he’s not going to complain.

He stretches out, all the way down to his toes, his knuckles rapping lightly against the wall, and goes boneless again, letting his eyes shut. He’s alone in bed, but the door is partially open and if he lies very still, he can hear the soft cadence of Otabek’s voice. His deep tones made all the more lovely by his native language as he paces the living room. Yuri can already tell the creak in the floorboards by the hallway leading back to the bedroom. He turns on his side and smiles into his own bicep.

Yuri can still hardly believe that they’re here together. That Otabek gave up his summer in Almaty to come to St. Petersburg with him. That this is their apartment until the end of August. He grins and curls his toes in the sheets.

He can’t wait to take Otabek to his home rink to skate. He can’t wait to show him around the city, to take him to the bike shop he’d discovered where they rent out amazing-looking motorcycles. He wants to make his Grandpa’s katsudon pirozhki for Otabek and watch television with him at night. Yuri wants to introduce him to Lilia and Mila and probably even Yakov. There is so much that he wants to do with him that he can’t decide where to start.

There is so much he wants to learn about Otabek and he has months in which to do it.

The floor creaks again as Otabek walks over that same spot. Yuri sighs and rubs his fingers over the down comforter. There’s a little white feather poking out of the seam and he plucks it free. 

A sudden, unwelcome moroseness creeps in and he blows the feather away, watching it disappear over the side of the bed. He thinks about his last afternoon in Moscow, how he’d allowed himself to be poked and prodded, subjected to every test his doctor would administer to him. It was humiliating, Yuri’s face burning the entire time. 

He’d never been tested for fertility before, and it turns out that’s not really what the test is for, technically. He remembers sitting on the same medical table he’d been examined on the day before, listening to his doctor tell him that actual fertility testing isn’t covered by his low-level insurance. That he _could_ be tested but there wasn’t much point in it. 

_”It’s highly unlikely that you’re even remotely fertile. Further testing is expensive, invasive and uncomfortable. We generally only give it to omegas who are actively_ trying _to conceive.”_

He’d been shown ultrasound pictures of his own belly.

_“The ability for male omegas to carry is an unnecessary physical trait; it’s gradually being evolved out. Another couple of generations and it won’t happen at all anymore. Your body isn’t built for it. The birth canal is underdeveloped and your hips are much too narrow for active labor. I’d say you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Plisetsky.”_

A tear trickles out of Yuri’s eye and over the bridge of his nose. He swipes at it, face scrunching. The larger part of him had been relieved to hear the words, because he’s not ready for a child. Even though he knows he wants to have sex with Otabek soon, a pregnancy, at this point, would ruin his career. He’d just end up resenting his own child, like his mother resents him.

He sniffs and rubs at his nose with his knuckles, covered by the cuff of his sleeve.

 _Now_ would be bad. But it’s the loss of the thought of _maybe. Maybe later,_ that really stings. He can’t have children. He can’t give that to himself or to Otabek, or make his Grandpa a Great. 

Another tear slides free and he brushes it away angrily. 

Otabek hadn’t been angry with him, hadn’t even seemed upset. He didn’t press Yuri to talk about it, just let him slam around his rented Moscow flat for a while, before he’d found Otabek sitting on the floor with his cat and curled up on his lap. He’d just pressed a kiss to Yuri’s temple and made himself smell warm and comforting. He’d merely murmured, “It’s okay, Yura.” And somehow, it was. If Otabek didn’t resent him for it, he refuses to resent himself. Or at least he’s trying not to.

Yuri presses his open palm over his belly, fingers spread over the low ride of his pajama bottoms. A bitter twist of omega disappointment gnaws at him and he shoves it away. There’s nothing to be done for it, he reminds himself.

The sound of the cats fighting in the hallway has him sitting halfway up in bed. King comes skittering around the door, paws slipping and nails scratching at the polished hardwood. He jumps up on the bed and turns with a flourish to hiss at Otabek’s cat when she follows him. 

“Flura, shoo!” Yuri scolds. King keeps trying to make friendly with her, but Flura hates him. She hates all other cats, Otabek had warned him. 

The door pushes open further and Otabek comes in, eyebrow arched. King makes a break for it and Otabek scoops Flura up under his arm, ignoring her unhappy grumble as he brings her up to eyelevel.

“Behave,” he says seriously. She ratchets up the volume in her next annoyed meow and he lets her jump down, hurrying out into the hallway. “Brat,” he says before coming to kneel on the bed beside Yuri. Otabek leans in and presses a kiss to his cheek before dropping down to sit cross-legged beside him.

Yuri eyes the cup of tea in his hand. “Where’s mine?”

“This is yours.” Yuri makes grabby hands but Otabek pushes him away with a firm palm to the side of his head. “Brush your teeth.”

Yuri scowls at him but flips the covers off of himself and swings his legs over the side of the bed. If he didn’t know from experience that Otabek won’t actually kiss him before he brushes his teeth in the morning, he’d put up a fuss that it’ll make his tea taste awful. 

When he comes back from the en suite he tosses himself down on the bed and watches Otabek struggle to keep from spilling tea everywhere. Yuri laughs as he glares. 

“Just for that, I’m drinking it,” Otabek says, taking a sip. 

Yuri narrows his eyes but caves quickly as he watches more and more of his tea being rapidlyconsumed. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he says in a rush, pushing himself to his knees and reaching for the mug that Otabek holds away from him. “I brushed my teeth for you,” he points out.

Otabek kisses the tip of his nose and Yuri’s expression falls flat. Otabek grins at him and takes another drink of his tea. He hands it over before Yuri starts to pout.

The covers are still warm when he gets under them again, sitting back against the headboard beside Otabek. The days have been cold, since they arrived in St. Petersburg, even though it’s nearly May, and the apartment takes a while to warm up in the morning. Luckily, Otabek runs hot at all times and Yuri can just nudge up against him whenever he needs to.

“Who were you talking to a while ago?” Yuri asks, watching Otabek scroll through the feed on his twitter; he’s surprisingly active on it. Verified blue checkmark and all.

“My sister. And then my mother, who is still angry with me that I didn’t introduce you to her for approval before we came out here,” Otabek says, leaning his cheek against the top of Yuri’s head.

He lets out an unimpressed sound and takes another drink of tea. “What are the odds that she’ll like me once she does meet me?”

Yuri wishes he didn’t care what Otabek’s mother thinks, but he does. If she doesn’t approve of the two of them, he’s not entirely confident yet that Otabek will ignore her opinion. Fingers scratch at the nape of his neck, twisting into thick, blonde strands.

“She’ll get over it,” Otabek says. “Things are different in Kazakh culture, when it comes to alphas and omegas. She and my father would have picked out a mate for me, if I’d presented at sixteen. If my father was alive, anyway.” Yuri pushes up closer to him. “She’s just upset that she didn’t have a say in who I picked.”

Yuri looks down at the dregs of his tea, turning the mug between his hands. “You picked me, huh?”

Otabek shifts to look at him and Yuri tips his head up, shaking his hair back out of his face. Dark, gorgeous eyes study him for a moment before the corner of Otabek’s mouth quirks up in a smile.

“Obviously,” he says. 

Yuri kisses him so hard that he jerks back for a moment, rubbing at his bottom lip. He takes Yuri’s cup and sets it down on the floor, in the absence of a bedside table, and cups his face in both hands. The kiss Otabek gives him is gentler, his thumbs stroking over his cheekbones as he licks into his mouth.

Yuri feels like he’s floating. Otabek tastes like coffee and he smells like the sandalwood body wash he uses. His hands are soft and he touches Yuri like he’s something precious instead of fragile. He wants to pull Otabek down on top of him again, kiss him and grind against him until they’re both sweating and coming in their pajama bottoms.

He’s just leaned back into his pillow, bringing Otabek along with him, when the cats come tearing into the room again. They bound up onto the bed, hissing and swiping at each other. It effectively kills the mood.

“Flura!” Otabek snaps, pushing himself back up and snatching her off of King, earning himself a couple of nasty scratches for his trouble. He curses in Kazakh and hauls himself off the bed and out of the room, squirming cat under his arm.

Yuri stares at King, lying on his back, paws up and claws out. He pokes the cat on the nose. 

“I don’t need kids when I have two cats who hate each other.”

King rolls onto his side and licks Yuri’s knee, tongue scraping loudly over the fabric of his pajama bottoms. 

Otabek comes back and closes the door behind him, letting out an annoyed breath. 

“Look at this innocent little shit,” he says, dropping down on the bed again and batting at King’s tail.

Yuri scoops him up against his chest and holds him there. “My son has never done a thing wrong in his life,” he says, as King bites at his shirt.

Otabek stretches out across the foot of the bed, head propped up on his palm, and smiles. “What are we going to do today?”

“Buy curtains,” Yuri grumbles, letting the cat down again. King goes to Otabek and sniffs at the hand he holds out before butting his head up against it. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs, rubbing at King’s ears. He flicks his eyes up to Yuri. “After curtains?” Yuri shrugs. “You’re just full of motivation today. Don’t forget, we have lunch with Viktor later.”

Yuri groans and pushes himself to his knees and crawls the short distance to Otabek. King moves toward the head of the bed and settles on Otabek’s pillow while Yuri lies down facing him. He presses his face to Otabek’s throat and breathes him in, sighing contentedly when a strong arm folds around his back and holds him close. He smells like home.

“Just wanna be with you for a while,” he mumbles. 

“And you call _me_ a sap,” Otabek says, but his voice is gentle and his tone fond. Yuri nips at his Adam’s apple and listens to him yelp. “You’re a bigger brat than my cat.”

Yuri stretches his arm out and lays his head on his bicep. Otabek keeps his own elbow propped up and looks down at him, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair, over and over, making Yuri feel sleepy. He closes his eyes and hums softly.

He feels so at ease. Everything is so effortlessly comfortable between them. A moment of doubt creeps in and he reminds himself that he hoped for exactly this before Otabek had even presented. This is real. He knows it is. He feels it in his heart and in his gut, settled in like a physical thing. Their fingers lace together for a moment before Yuri settles Otabek’s hand on his hip.

“Can you touch me?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Fingers dig into the exposed skin on his side. “Not with the cat in the room,” Otabek says.

Yuri opens his eyes and looks at him. Otabek looks nervous, sucking on his own bottom lip.

“We don’t have to, yet,” Yuri tells him, quashing his disappointment. He won’t force this on him; he wouldn’t want it if it made either of them uncomfortable. He rubs his foot over Otabek’s calf.

The palm on his hip gentles, settling warmly over the jut of his hip. “I want to,” Otabek murmurs with the air of a confession.

“You still think I’m gonna be grossed out, don’t you?” Yuri asks, though it doesn’t feel or sound much like a question.

The flush on Otabek’s face confirms it. “I just don’t think—it doesn’t look like—“ he cuts himself off to heave a frustrated breath. “It’s ugly,” he says, looking Yuri in the eye.

Yuri rolls his eyes. “It can’t be any worse than the ones I’ve seen in porn,” he says, making Otabek glower at him. “I won’t think it’s ugly, Beka,” he says, leaning in to kiss under his jaw. “Just kissing you gets me hard. I’ll like it. I wanna see it. I wanna touch you.” 

Otabek’s breathing is heavy in his ear, his hand tight on his hip. “I don’t want to rush this. We have time.” He slides his hand up under Yuri’s shirt, flattening against the small of his back.

“I’m ready, Beka. Whenever you are. We don’t have to fuck; we can do something else. I’ll like anything, with you.”

Otabek tips his head back and kisses him, hot and wet and so good that Yuri gets a little slick between his legs. He presses his thighs together and kisses back, relishing in the rough scrape of Otabek’s stubble against his skin.

King climbs over his legs and lies down between them. 

Yuri breaks the kiss to glare down at him. “You _are_ like having a kid.”

Otabek huffs a laugh against his forehead, pressing a kiss there. Yuri looks up, still hopeful that this might go somewhere. 

“Let’s just—“ Otabek trails off. He buries his face in Yuri’s neck and inhales deeply before letting out a shaky breath. “We have lunch with Viktor and Yuuri. Nikiforov will smell it on us.”

Yuri pulls back and lets his disgust show on his face. “He’ll _smell_ it? Even if we shower?” 

“I—you know you… smell a certain way for me, right?” Otabek asks, looking frustrated, like he doesn’t know how to articulate what he wants to say. Yuri nods, feeling his brow furrow. The omega doctor he’d seen the other day had explained a lot of things to him that he hadn’t gotten out of his first round of sex education at age thirteen. He thinks he knows where this is going.

“My mating scent, you mean?” 

Otabek’s eyes go a little wide, then he nods. “You smell like that for me.”

“Obviously,” Yuri grumbles. “I certainly don’t smell like that for Viktor.”

Fingers tighten on his hip again. “No. But he can smell it, anyway.”

Yuri rolls onto his back and blows out a breath that sends his hair fluttering off of his face. “We could just cancel lunch with them, you know. It’s not like we didn’t just live with them for three days.”

Otabek puts a hand on his belly. “I’m pretty sure Nikiforov isn’t going to let up until he gives me the threatening big brother talk about you.”

Yuri arches an eyebrow. “Sometimes I think he forgets that he isn’t actually my brother. Or my father. I don’t need him breathing down my neck all the damn time.”

“He just cares about you, Yura.” Otabek’s thumb rubs over his navel, back and forth, the brush of skin so soft and smooth that it makes goosebumps break out over his belly.

“He’s making me insane.”

Lips press to his and his eyes flutter open; he doesn’t know when he closed them. 

“Later,” Otabek murmurs, “after curtains and after lunch. If you’re still sure.”

“I’m ready for this, Beka,” Yuri says, taking hold of his hair and pulling his head up so they’re looking one another in the eye. He _needs_ Otabek to understand how serious he is about this. About them. “Whenever you are.”

Otabek’s eyes search his for a long moment before he ducks his head and kisses him again.

 

\--

 

The apartment they’d picked to rent is in a newly renovated building just off Nevsky Prospekt, near the Moyka River. It’s ridiculously expensive and Yuri feels a bit terrible every time he thinks about the amount he saw on the monthly lease Otabek had signed.

Yuri has started to bring in a decent amount in winnings from competitions, but not so much that he can contribute enough that he feels like he’s helping here. Otabek swears up and down that he doesn’t mind, that this is the sort of thing he’s been saving his money for, but Yuri highly doubts that this is what he’d had in mind when he started socking it away. The little boy in him who came from nothing cringes whenever he thinks about it. 

Nevsky Centre is near enough that they walk. Yuri insists on thicker curtains and Otabek obliges him, as he does most everything else. They hold hands, Otabek’s soft and warm, and Yuri’s feeling a bit like icicles from the strong wind coming off the water. He holds Otabek’s arm with his other hand as they walk, staying hunched against him.

“Are you that cold?” he asks, shaking his hand free from Yuri’s to toss over his shoulder and haul him in close. 

Yuri ignores the stares being sent their way from people he knows recognize one or the both of them. Otabek doesn’t care so Yuri doesn’t care.

“We can’t all run hot, alpha boy,” Yuri grumbles, tucking his hand into Otabek’s pocket.

They come to a stop on a street corner and the unmistakable snap of a camera phone sounds behind them. Yuri starts to turn but Otabek stops him with a firm hand against his chest.

“Don’t,” he says quietly. 

“Beka—“

“Do you care? If people see us together?”

“No,” Yuri says as they cross the street. He keeps his head down, hunching into his jacket against the sharp wind that blows between buildings. He wants to yell at the invasion of their privacy. They haven’t even talked about this yet.

“Then ignore it.”

Taking the quiet road has never really been his style, but it seems to be the only one that Otabek knows. He lets himself be guided along and he fights not to react to the sound of another camera snapping in their direction.

Yuri pays for the curtains, just because he can. And he’s faster with his wallet than Otabek is.

 

\--

 

Viktor lives nearer to the Tuchkov Bridge than they do, and the walk along the river is nice but windy. When he’d lived with Lilia, the walk had been even shorter.

“Can’t believe you’re making me come back here,” Yuri grumbles as they approach his building. 

Unbeknownst to him, Otabek had asked Viktor to check out a couple of apartments for them, more or less allowing him to choose the nicest one for them to rent. They’d gone with his decision, but the apartment wasn’t ready in time for their arrival, being in need of a serious deep cleaning to get rid of the previous occupant’s scent. They’d stayed in Viktor’s second bedroom for three nights and Yuri had nearly gone spare by the time they’d left.

Otabek sighs and tips his head to the side, looking at him. “Every day, when I was back home, you’d tell me you had lunch with these two, and now you don’t want to anymore?”

He pulls a face. “Every day, because you weren’t here.”

“Yura, be nice.”

“Just because you somehow managed to avoid Viktor long enough to escape his parent talk, now we’re going to be forced to come back here every single day until he pins you down.” 

The look Otabek gives him says he’s being dramatic. He grips his hand harder and huffs as he’s dragged up the steps to Viktor’s building.

The apartment smells amazing when they walk in. Yuuri is standing in his socked feet in the kitchen cooking while Viktor’s lazy ass lies around on the couch with his dog. He waves them in with his stupid smile, gesturing proudly back at Katsuki. 

“My Yuuri is making us katsudon, since Otabek has never had it before,” he says beaming at the flushing beta. He sighs, setting his chin on his arms, folded over the back of the couch. “Isn’t he amazing?”

Yuri can only imagine the look on his face as he turns to Otabek. 

“Hormones,” Otabek mouths at him, pinching his nose and briefly waving his hand in front of it.

Yuri inhales and wrinkles his nose. Is that what that smell is? “Gross,” he says, not bothering to keep his voice down. 

Both Viktor and Katsuki turn to look at him. “You don’t want katsudon?” other Yuuri asks, looking more than a little disappointed. 

Otabek nudges him with his elbow, not at all discretely, and Yuri sighs. Then takes the opportunity to throw Otabek to the wolves.

“Yes. And I need that thing you said you’d give me,” he says, nudging his shoes out of the way as he steps out of the entryway. 

“What thing?” Katsuki asks, looking confused, taking off his glasses to clean them on the hem of his shirt. 

Yuri grabs him by the arm as he passes, on the way down the hallway toward his and Viktor’s bedroom. “That thing. You know.”

“Oh. Right. That,” other Yuuri says, not at all convincingly, as he lets himself be dragged along. 

Otabek is glaring at him when he closes the door behind them, sticking his tongue out at him. Might as well get it over with. Maybe then he and Otabek can have an afternoon to themselves without having Viktor attempting to be the protector Yuri doesn’t want. 

He sits down on the side of the bed that he knows Katsuki sleeps on. He doesn’t trust Viktor’s side. He once saw him go two weeks without washing his hair, living off of dry shampoo, because he was convinced that was what was causing it to thin.

“So,” Yuuri says, standing in front of him, looking awkward. 

Betas don’t smell like much, but Yuuri still manages to somehow make himself seem… safe, he thinks, lacking a better word. Yuri hasn’t ever felt uneasy around him. Wary, but never uncomfortable. He’d never admit it, though, of course.

He leans forward with his elbows on his thighs, letting his hands hang between his knees. 

“Just letting Viktor get the older and wiser alpha talk out of the way,” he says. Katsuki lets out a small laugh, still fidgeting awkwardly in front of him. “Sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

Yuuri does, leaving a bit of space between the two of them. He tangles his fingers together for a moment, and then sits up stiffly, putting his hands flat on his thighs. 

Yuri cuts him off before he even starts. “Not you too.”

A deflating breath has Yuuri sagging again beside him, looking a little sheepish when Yuri turns to look at him. 

“Can’t I want to know that you’re okay?” he asks. 

Yuri heaves a sigh. “Why does everyone act like Beka’s someone I need to be protected from?” 

“That’s not it,” Katsuki says with a shake of his head. “Otabek seems very nice.”

“He is,” Yuri grumbles, looking down at his hands again. Failing to realize that locking himself away with other Yuuri would result in a talking to of his own was his first mistake. He deserves this, probably, for pushing Otabek under the bus. “And no, there’s nothing I want to talk about.”

He wants Viktor to shut his big mouth so they can come back out to the living room again.

“Okay,” Yuuri says simply.

“What, that’s it?” he asks, turning to look at him.

Katsuki shrugs. “I can’t force you to talk to me about it. But if you want to, you know…”

“I know. There’s nothing I really need to talk about with someone who isn’t him.” Other Yuuri nods. “But thanks.”

“Sure. Everything’s good, then?”

Yuri nods. “Really good.”

Katsuki smiles crookedly at him. Yuri’s still looking at him when Viktor opens the door and leans against the jamb with his arms folded. “You two can come out now. If you’ve found that _thing_ , anyway.”

He gives Viktor a decidedly dirty look when he brushes past him. Otabek is sitting on the couch, staring at the wall behind the television when he drops down beside him. The look he receives is either pained or tired and Yuri can’t tell which.

“That bad, huh?” he asks quietly, letting Viktor annoy Katsuki loudly in the kitchen cover the sound of his voice.

“The worst.”

“Tell me later,” Yuri says, reaching for his hand.

Otabek shakes his head. “Don’t make me relive that.”

Yuri rolls his eyes and kisses his cheek, settling in to wait for lunch to be ready.

 

\--

 

The fact that Otabek doesn’t immediately sweep him off his feet and carry him into the bedroom when they get home is mildly irritating. The fact that Yuri has to follow him there is one thing, but seeing Otabek drop face-first into his pillow instead of pulling him down and kissing him is unacceptable.

He stands in the doorway, watching as Otabek toes out of his socks without moving his arms from where he’s got them folded around his pillow, making himself comfortable. He looks toward Yuri and then reaches over to pat the bed beside him. 

“Are you _napping_?” he asks, sounding as incredulous as he feels. 

“Not yet,” he says around a yawn. “Come here, Yura.”

Yuri has to fight back the whine building in his throat. “Beka,” he says, coming into the room and pushing the door shut behind him. The last thing he needs is the cats to come charging in again.

Otabek holds his arm out and Yuri climbs onto the bed, feeling absolutely helpless to resist the siren call of this alpha wanting a cuddle. He doesn’t hold back his whine as he tucks himself up against him, though.

The laugh Otabek lets out rustles his hair. “Aren’t you tired? That food was so heavy,” he says. “I feel like I need a nap and a workout.”

Yuri stares at him from too close for a moment and bites at his own bottom lip. “I’m trying really hard to not say something about offering you a workout, you know.”

Otabek kisses him gently. “Nap with me.”

The protest he’s forming dies on his tongue, because Otabek really does look like he’s half asleep already. And he isn’t wrong about the meal; it sits heavily in his belly, making him feel content and just a little bit sleepy. Otabek is warm against him, around him, smelling safe and happy, and Yuri finds himself letting his eyelids droop. He stops fighting it, nudging his nose into Otabek’s neck and going still.

Everything else can wait, he supposes.

 

\--

 

Yuri doesn’t even realize that he’s fallen asleep until he wakes up to the shift of the mattress beneath him. Otabek gets up and disappears into the bathroom. Yuri stretches and listens to the water run and the light flick off, the sounds of bare feet on hardwood. He doesn’t want to move, but his bladder is so full it aches and he pushes himself up when Otabek sits down again. 

A quick brush of his teeth and some warm water splashed against his face has him feeling wide-awake again. Thankfully Otabek hasn’t laid back down, instead, he’s sitting cross-legged in the mess of sheets, staring at his phone.

Yuri jostles him when he jumps on the bed on his knees. To his surprise, Otabek locks his phone and drops it in favor of leaning in and kissing him. Yuri blinks in surprise for a moment before he drapes his arms over Otabek’s shoulders and kisses him back. The familiar warm curl of arousal spreads in his belly and he hums in the back of his throat as Otabek’s tongue pushes into his mouth.

They kiss for a long time, Otabek sitting and Yuri up on his knees, leaning into him with his arms around his neck. Big hands curling around his hips draw him in closer and Yuri moves, allowing himself to be pulled onto Otabek’s lap. He feels his face going warm as he considers their position, with his legs spread over Otabek’s hips, their chests pressed together. 

It’s nice. It’s really nice, because Otabek isn’t easing him back or telling him that they need to stop. They kiss and kiss and Yuri starts to get hard when Otabek’s hands move from his hips to run up and down his back. He’s wanted this for what feels like forever, these intimate touches, the decided possessiveness of Otabek’s hands on him. It’s so close to perfect, he never wants it to end. 

“Yura,” he rasps, leaning their foreheads together when Yuri rubs himself against Otabek’s stomach.

“Yeah?” Yuri whispers, hoping that Otabek isn’t about to stop them. 

“You’re sure?” 

At Yuri’s nod, Otabek rises up on his knees, putting one hand on the small of Yuri’s back, the other on the bed, and tipping them backward. Yuri holds on to him, tugging him down into a kiss that is decidedly more heated than the last. Otabek kisses him hard and deep, letting their tongues rubs together, lying himself out between Yuri’s thighs. He tightens his legs around Otabek’s hips, fisting both hands in his hair at the pressure against his dick. Otabek’s weight on him, their mouths pressed together, and oh fuck, Otabek rocking down against him.

He whimpers and Otabek breaks the kiss, reaching over his shoulder to grab his shirt and tug it up and off. Yuri scrambles for his own, arcing his back as he rips the fabric over his head. Otabek’s hands slide up his bare chest and Yuri keeps his spine arched. Thumbs brush his nipples before a hot mouth fastens over one of them.

“Oh my god,” Yuri whimpers, locking his feet together at the small of Otabek’s back and holding his head down with both hands, keeping him in place. “Beka, please.”

Otabek’s tongue laves over his nipple before he lets go, leaving a wet trail across his chest as he moves to the other. He pinches at his nipple, thumbing the hard, wet nub, working the other with his teeth and tongue, until Yuri thinks he’s going to go crazy from it. 

He’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, grinding himself up against Otabek’s stomach and pulling at his hair. There isn’t nearly enough of it to get a good grip with both hands, so he grasps the back of his neck with one and those fine, smooth strands with the other.

“Please,” he says again, not even certain what he’s asking for, just knowing that he needs more. That if Otabek stops, he’ll die.

His head lifts and when Yuri meets his eyes, they’re so impossibly dark that they look black. A whimper leaves him before he can stop it. Otabek takes one his wrists and brings his hand down to kiss his palm.

“What do you want me to do, Yura?” he asks, voice thick and gravelly in his throat. Yuri shivers, unsure if that was Otabek’s alpha intonation he’s reacting to, or just the pure, deep arousal in his natural voice.

“I don’t know. I don’t—anything,” Yuri begs. “Please. Don’t stop touching me.”

He should probably be ashamed at how easily he’s falling to pieces under the first real touches he’s ever received, but he isn’t. This is Otabek, after all. And he is completely and utterly gone on him. 

Otabek bites the pad of his thumb before he pushes himself further down between Yuri’s thighs, knocking his legs apart. He digs his heels into the bed, letting his legs be spread wide enough to accommodate Otabek’s broad shoulders, and watches as deft fingers pull his belt open.

Dark eyes flick up to his again. “Tell me to stop, if you need to.” Yuri nods. “I won’t be angry.”

“I know. Beka, please,” Yuri says, arching his hips up. He can see where his dick is straining against the too-tight fabric of his jeans, can feel where he’s slicking up his boxer-briefs. He shudders as Otabek pulls his zipper open and peels his jeans down his legs. 

He feels exposed, lying prone with his legs open, wearing nothing but his tented boxers, with Otabek’s hands on his knees. The look on his face keeps him from wanting to cover himself, though. Otabek’s mouth is open, his eyes a little wide, looking down at him like he wants to eat him alive. 

Yuri stretches, lifting his hips and watching Otabek’s gaze flick down to where his cock is so obviously straining against the fabric of his boxer-briefs. 

“Beka,” he murmurs, trailing his fingertips down his own chest.

Otabek’s face is red and his breathing labored as he curls his fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down, leaving Yuri lying naked in front of him. Absently, he thinks he should feel embarrassed, but he doesn’t. Not at all.

“God,” Otabek breathes, tossing the last bit of his clothing onto the floor. “Yuri, fuck. Look at you.” 

The hands that run up his thighs are careful, worshipful almost. Yuri’s toes curl in the comforter; he wants to preen under the praise. 

Carefully, so very carefully, Otabek spreads himself out on his belly again; lower this time. His shoulders press against the backs of Yuri’s thighs as he settles. Shaking fingers curl into the join of his hips and pull him down the bed a bit, until Otabek has him situated how he wants him.

They haven’t talked about this much, their respective pasts and what they’ve done with others. Yuri doesn’t have a past to speak of, but he gets the distinct feeling that Otabek has done this before, and he can’t quite tramp down on the flare of jealousy that blooms in his chest. 

He loses the thought, though, because for the first time in his life, a hand that isn’t his own is curling around his cock and lifting it up off of his belly. Yuri whines, loud and high, feeling suddenly out of control. He buries a hand in Otabek’s hair, breathing already wild and heavy in his chest.

Then Otabek’s tongue slides over his foreskin and Yuri practically whites out. There’s a sharp twinge in his back from how hard he’s arching and his fingers hurt with how tightly they’re clenching. 

“It’s okay, Yura,” Otabek murmurs, pressing down on his hip with his free hand. “Relax for me. That’s it.” 

Yuri is shaking all over. His cock throbs in Otabek’s hand; he can feel the pulse of precome over the head. He looks down at Otabek, watching as he opens his mouth again and sucks him in, bobbing slowly up and down his length. Watching Otabek’s lips, full and wet, sliding along his shaft makes his entire body shudder.

“’m not gonna last. Beka, please.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice, thick and strained and so, so turned on. 

Otabek’s hand slides to the base of his dick and he scratches his fingers through Yuri’s pubic hair. It makes his hips jolt up again, and Otabek rides the motion of it without choking. Yuri’s eyes are starting to tear up, it feels so good. He floats on the overwhelming crest of sensation, trying to hold himself back, just feeling every amazing moment of it. Otabek’s scent is thick with arousal, flooding his senses and making his entire body shake. There’s slick leaking from his hole into the sheets and he wants Otabek to touch him, slide his finger into it, into _him_ , but before he can voice any sort of request, he’s tightening his fingers in Otabek’s fringe and his balls are drawing up. He comes far too soon, with a sharp cry, feeling Otabek’s swallow around him.

It takes a long minute before Yuri can open his eyes again. His legs are sprawled open and shaking, his ass is slick and his cock is damp from Otabek’s mouth. He feels ripped open and sated and about a million other things he doesn’t bother trying to put a name to. He feels good.

Otabek moves to his side, out of the spread of his thighs, and kisses him. Yuri tastes himself on his swollen lips, salty and just a little bit bitter. He scrapes the fingers of both hands against the buzzed hair on the back of Otabek’s scalp and pushes up into the kiss, smashing their noses together a little bit. 

“Can I touch you?” Yuri asks when the kiss breaks. Otabek’s eyes are a little bit glassy when he nods. 

His fingers shake when he opens Otabek’s jeans. He’s focusing so hard on what his own hands are doing, how the heel of his right hand keeps bumping against the swell of Otabek’s cock pressing on his zipper, that it takes him a moment to realize Otabek is speaking to him.

Fingers spear through his hair and tilt his head up. “Yura,” he rasps, his voice thick in his throat, making Yuri shudder. He pops the button on Otabek’s jeans finally.

“What?” 

“You okay?” he asks, thumb brushing over Yuri’s cheek.

Yuri’s eyes flutter shut for a moment and he nods, getting his fingers hooked in the waist of Otabek’s jeans and tugging. Otabek lifts his hips to help; his underwear comes halfway down his thighs with the drag of his pants, and suddenly Yuri is seeing him naked for the first time. He’s gorgeous, lying on his back with an arm over his head, hand fisted in the sheets. His hair is damp with sweat at the roots, face flushed and breathing heavy. He’s a little bigger than he used to be, but he’s still smaller than the typical alpha, and Yuri loves it. It’s endearing. 

Finally, Yuri lets himself look. Otabek’s legs sprawl open as he finishes kicking his jeans off, and his cock is thick and dark against his belly. Precome beads at the head and slides down his shaft, dripping onto his tanned stomach. The base is just starting to swell with the promise of his knot. Yuri’s mouth goes dry.

He’s caught by the back of the neck and dragged up into a kiss. He grips at Otabek, his neck, his face, pulling on his hair, then digging his nails into his chest to hear him moan. He feels out of control, he wants so badly. Almost without thinking he hooks his knee over Otabek’s thigh and grinds his soft dick against him.

Otabek gentles the kiss as he whimpers, thigh pushing up between his legs. His cheeks go even hotter when he realizes that his slick is smearing all over Otabek’s thigh.

“Fuck,” Otabek grasps, breaking the kiss to look down between them. Yuri follows his gaze, watching his hips roll forward, grinding himself down over and over. He aches where his hole is wet and open, even without Otabek touching him. He wants Otabek to fuck him.

Yuri whimpers at the thought and crushes their mouths together again. A hand comes up to cup the back of his head and Otabek kisses him thoroughly. 

Stomach muscles jump under his touch as he trails his fingers down the defined lines of his belly. The hair there is coarse and thick as he goes further. Yuri buries his nose in Otabek’s neck, just behind his ear and inhales deeply. Otabek smells so fucking _good_. His hips jerk at the new rush of slick between his legs.

There’s a responsive groan in return and a hand lands on his ass, squeezing hard enough to hurt, fingers kneading the muscle there. Yuri scratches his nails down hard through the thatch of hair around the base of Otabek’s cock, feeling him arch at the touch. 

“Please,” Otabek whispers against his lips, slick and wet and just the slightest bit puffy.

He takes hold of Otabek’s cock and strokes him. It’s the first time he’s ever touched a dick that isn’t his own and it’s almost surreal. He looks down again, watching himself touch Otabek, fingers pressing into the tender, swollen skin at the base, getting tighter by the moment. Otabek squeezes his ass again and Yuri grinds against his hip; he’s starting to get hard again.

He thinks for a moment that he should find something to slick his hand with, but Otabek is leaking onto his stomach, a near-constant rush of precome at the head. Yuri runs his fingertips over his slit, feeling the full body shudder that jerks Otabek against him. He’s cut, and Yuri hasn’t ever seen a cock without foreskin outside of porn before.

It’s different, a little weird looking and less responsive than he thinks he is. But maybe that’s just Otabek. He presses harder, sliding his forefinger over his slit again. The whine Otabek lets loose is loud and a little bit hysterical sounding.

Yuri runs his palm through the pool of precome on Otabek’s stomach and starts jerking him hard and fast. His cock isn’t ugly at all, he finds himself thinking suddenly.

“Yuri,” Otabek pants, saying his name over and over, his nose pressed against his throat, dragging in breath after breath. He’s inhaling Yuri’s scent, cradling his neck in one hand and squeezing his ass with the other. Yuri’s never felt so desired before, his entire body hot with want, his hole wet, slicking his ass, and leaking onto the sheets. 

“Beka,” Yuri gasps, watching his hand on his cock. He squeezes harder at the head just to feel Otabek’s breath stutter over his throat.

“I’m gonna come,” Otabek rasps. “Fuck. I’m gonna knot, Yura. I can’t—please. Don’t stop, just—the base, touch it, please. Harder, harder.”

Yuri follows his rushed instructions, hand shaking a little as he squeezes over the swelling at the base of Otabek’s cock. He wants to sit up, wants to see it better, but Otabek’s nose is pressed so hard to his neck, he doesn’t see how it’s even possible to breathe like that. He holds Yuri there, like he needs to breathe him in.

Yuri’s throat is dry and he swallows, trying to wet it. Otabek’s knot starts to swell up quickly. 

“Is it okay?” he asks. “Should I—“

“Just keep going. Tighter,” Otabek gasps, letting go of his death grip on Yuri’s ass to grab his wrist. His fingers tighten over Yuri’s until he’s squeezing hard enough that it has to hurt. “Feels good,” Otabek whispers, lips brushing over Yuri’s throat. “So good.” 

He squeezes tighter and tighter until his knuckles hurt, but Otabek just keeps gasping and his cock is leaking everywhere. He has no idea why this much slick would be necessary, but his hole clenches as he watches. Fuck, he wants Otabek in him so badly it aches.

Otabek’s knot swells quickly, hardening in his hand, and Yuri has to clench his eyes shut for a moment as he imagines this inside of him. How it will be. It’s only a matter of time, he thinks, squeezing and reaching down with his smallest finger to touch Otabek’s balls. 

“’m coming,” Otabek gasps, tightening their hands until Yuri is squeezing Otabek’s knot so tightly that his arm starts to shake.

Then Otabek is practically convulsing under him, his head coming up off of the bed as he jerks, come spurting up his belly in thick pulses that just don’t seem to end. Yuri watches as Otabek lets go of his hand to jerk himself through it, his cock pulsing come over and over until it’s pooling in the cuts of his hips and running down his sides. 

It goes on and on until Yuri thinks Otabek might pass out from how hard he’s straining for breath, his stomach clenching, and his legs shaking. And then it just stops. Otabek goes still for a long moment and then he’s reaching for Yuri’s hand, tapping the back of it.

Yuri lets go but Otabek shakes his head, guiding his hand back to his knot. “Don’t stop touching it, please. Just… lighter.” 

He lets Otabek guide him, tightening his fingers just so, before he lets go and reaches up to cup Yuri’s cheek. Their lips find each other’s blindly, Yuri’s eyes already closed and Otabek’s mouth dragging up to meet his. They kiss and kiss and kiss while Yuri rubs lightly at Otabek’s knot. 

He’s unprepared when a wet hand wraps around his cock and strokes. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, fingers tightening suddenly. Otabek inhales sharply and arches into the touch. Yuri can smell the weak pulse of come from the head of his dick.

Otabek kisses him as he jerks him off, pulling hard and fast at him, his palm slicked with his own release. It feels so good, if a little sore. He comes again quickly, spilling over Otabek’s fist, onto his hip. Yuri lets go of his knot to cup his jaw as he kisses him hard and fast. 

Time slows and quickens, everything blurring together in the wake of their first _real_ orgasm together, and Otabek knotting with him. It feels surreal, but so, so good. Yuri floats on the feeling, euphoric and content, the powerfully calming scent that Otabek is emitting making him almost giddy. He never wants it to end.

 

\--

 

Blinking his eyes open feels like a great effort. Otabek is leaned over him, wiping him down with a warm, wet washcloth; stomach, thighs, ass, and hands. It doesn’t feel erotic but it feels good, almost better, because it’s an alpha taking care of him. 

His alpha. 

Yuri lets himself be dragged up the bed until his head is lying on a pillow, and lifts his hips at Otabek’s instruction to allow a pair of sweatpants to be tugged up his hips. The coolness of the apartment is settling in around them as the sky outside starts to go dark. The windows in their bedroom face west and the warm glow the sun casts as it sinks past the horizon is more than enough light to see by.

Otabek settles in under the duvet with him, placing a heavy arm around his back, and kissing his forehead.

He can feel Otabek studying him from close up but he’s too tired and too content to move away from the scrutiny. He doubts that Otabek finds him lacking, anyway.

“You have freckles,” Otabek murmurs.

The tip of a finger traces down the bridge of his nose to the tip before disappearing. 

“Not really,” Yuri mumbles, face half buried in the pillow.

“No, you do. They’re faint but they’re there. And very cute.”

Yuri groans and pushes his face the rest of the way into his pillow, smelling his scent mixed with Otabek’s. He breathes in deeply, feeling a familiar warmth fill his chest. 

Otabek lets out a surprised sound when Yuri shoves himself up onto his elbows, looking around the room before his eyes land on Otabek again.

“It smells like us in here,” he says.

Otabek arches an eyebrow. “We just had sex. I knotted. You came twice. It’s going to smell like us in here for a while,” he says patiently.

Yuri claps his hand over Otabek’s mouth and gives him an unimpressed look. “I know that, idiot. I mean it smells like us in here _finally_. You know this means we have to have sex in every room in the apartment now.”

There’s a loud, muffled laugh under his palm before Otabek drags his hand away. 

“Is that what it means?”

“Obviously.”

Otabek’s laugh is so broad it shows off the gold crown in the back of his mouth. He cups Yuri’s cheek, pushing his hair back behind his ear. Yuri has never seen him look so happy before and it twists his belly pleasantly to know that he’s caused this. He’s made Otabek look like that.

He leans down to kiss him. 

“Gladly, Yurochka,” Otabek says against his lips.

He laughs when Yuri smacks a hand against his chest and flops down beside him. Together they watch the shadows creep across the ceiling until the room is dark.


	2. Chapter 2

The water pressure in the apartment is astoundingly good. Viktor had told him before he’d signed the lease that the bathroom was a major highlight of the place, but Otabek hadn’t understood what he meant until he’d stepped foot inside of it himself. Pictures had not done the newly remodeled room justice.

There’s a much larger shower than any other place he’s ever lived, with double showerheads, and a freestanding bathtub. The floors are bright, clean and white, and the walls have randomly placed tiger striped tiles every so often. He’d known then that Yuri would love it, even as he’d rolled his eyes at the feature.

Still, even with a showerhead all to his own, he’s standing watching Yuri instead of focusing on himself. Yuri turns under the spray with his eyes closed and tips his head back to rinse the conditioner from his hair. He runs his long, slender fingers through the thick, blonde mass, and shakes it out before rubbing the water from his eyes.

His mouth twists like he wants to smile when he catches Otabek looking. “You’re wasting hot water,” he says, turning to grab his shampoo again. 

Now that Otabek is free to look at him, he can’t stop. He wants to touch so badly it feels like a physical thing, making his fingers twitch. Yuri is absolutely beautiful. He’s a bit taller than when they’d met, but not quite lanky; his legs are toned but skinny and a bit awkward. He’s all bony knees and abused feet, bruised and cut up, and one of his toes looks like it’s been broken and healed wrong.

He watches those feet come closer before he drags his gaze up the length of Yuri’s pale body. 

“Duck,” Yuri instructs, holding up a palmful of shampoo. Otabek bends his knees obligingly and settles his hands on Yuri’s narrow hips for balance when he closes his eyes; his thumbs settle into the sharp indent of muscle. 

Yuri’s fingers massage at his scalp, working the shampoo into a lather around his ears and over the top of his head, where his hair is thick enough to be washed. He loves it, the alpha in him absolutely preening at being attended to, taken care of. He doesn’t think that’s a normal alpha response, but it’s _his_ response. 

“Rinse,” Yuri says, allowing him to stand back up. He tilts his head into the spray and lets the suds run off. 

Otabek combs his hair back with the fingers of one hand and looks down at Yuri again, only to find him staring at his cock.

“It’s kind of weird.”

“What?” Otabek asks, feeling an instant rush of embarrassment over his fading stretch marks.

“You’re cut.”

“Oh,” Otabek says, letting out a breath. “It’s not weird. My parents are—well, my mother is Muslim.”

Yuri glances down again before he grabs his body wash. “Are you, then?”

“Muslim?” Yuri nods. “Yeah. Casually, though. My mother is a little more strict, but she’s strict about everything.”

Yuri passes him his body wash and starts to scrub himself down. Otabek had tried to clean him up the night before, but it wasn’t enough to keep them both from waking up itchy.

“How do you mean?” he asks, bending to wash his legs. Otabek lathers himself up, watching Yuri twist around to clean himself off. 

“Our matings are still frequently arranged,” he says, forcing himself to keep his voice even. Yuri pauses for a moment before he grabs blindly for Otabek and holds on while he scrubs the bottoms of his feet. “Great balance, prima ballerina.”

“Shut it,” Yuri gripes, standing upright again and turning around to rinse. “It’s different in water and you know it.”

Otabek pinches his ass cheek and listens to him squawk. He turns, swatting at Otabek’s hands. 

“You said that yesterday but arranged how?” he asks, watching as Otabek finishes washing himself.

“You know what I mean. How it used to be, with prominent families pairing off their kids. Alphas and omegas. Dowries and everything.” 

Yuri’s eyebrows go up. “You’re kidding. It’s still like that?”

Otabek sighs. “It’s not _that_ uncommon, Yuri. My parents’ mating was arranged. Doesn’t mean they loved each other any less.”

“I didn’t mean that. It just seems… Outdated.”

They turn their respective showerheads off and step out, grabbing for their towels. The room is too big to be entirely filled with steam, and the tiles are slick and a bit chilly. Otabek towels off his hair and hastily dries himself before wrapping his towel around his waist. Yuri follows at a slower pace, still wringing water out of his hair as Otabek brushes his teeth.

“Only an omega can birth an omega,” Otabek says, though obviously Yuri knows this. “Families always had at least two children, hoping for an alpha and an omega to carry on their lines.”

“Helps to prevent inbreeding, too,” Yuri says, looking at him out of the corner of his eye as he grabs his own toothbrush.

“Don’t be crass.”

“It’s true,” Yuri points out.

He’s right, of course, but it still makes Otabek’s nose wrinkle when he thinks about it. They’re quiet for a bit, until they’re back in the bedroom, getting dressed. Yuri is already in a pair of black skinny jeans, with holes at the knees, when he turns back to Otabek.

“So, if you’d presented earlier…” he says, letting himself trail off, looking down at the shirt in his hands.

Otabek tugs on a pair of boxer-briefs and closes the distance between the two of them, tilting Yuri’s head up with a finger under his chin.

“You know I’d still choose you,” he says seriously. It’s the truth, too; he knows it is. In any lifetime, in any circumstance, he’d choose Yuri. He can’t imagine another person that he would put above this boy. He ducks down to kiss him soundly. 

“I know,” Yuri says, looking decidedly smug when Otabek pulls back. Otabek tugs on a lock of his hair, earning a sharp, “ow!” before he goes back to getting himself dressed for the day.

 

\--

 

King sits hunched up on the countertop near Otabek, looking betrayed, while Flura lounges lazily in front of Yuri. He’s petting her absently while he scrolls through something on his phone. 

Otabek reaches over to scratch behind King’s ear, watching him immediately perk up and begin to purr at the attention.

“You poor boy,” he says.

Yuri looks up at him. “He’s pouting. Don’t reward his behavior.”

“If he comes over there, Flura will rip his tail off. I don’t blame him for keeping away,” Otabek says, turning back to the stove. 

Yuri eats far more in the morning than he does, his appetite still befitting a growing body. Otabek is currently trying to shape a pancake into a cat’s head for him; it’s not looking too bad, he thinks. He isn’t sure that Yuri has ever had pancakes before; Otabek had developed a taste for them while he trained in North America. He hopes Yuri will like them. But Yuri tends to eat anything and everything, so he’s not too concerned as he shoos Flura off of the island and sets a plate down in front of him.

Yuri sets his phone aside and stares at the plate before he looks at Otabek. “It’s like an American movie. Bacon and everything.”

Otabek leans across the counter to kiss him. “Eat and shut up.”

Yuri sticks his tongue out at him and picks up his fork with one hand while he unlocks his phone again with the other.

While Otabek pours the batter for a pancake of his own, he listens to the sounds of Yuri eating. The knife and fork on the plate, the sounds of his glass being picked up and set down as he takes a drink of water, it’s all so easy and comfortable. He smiles to himself as he scoops his pancake out of the pan and turns the stove off.

Yuri is staring at his phone again when Otabek sits down across from him.

“That interesting, huh?” he asks, taking a bite.

Yuri’s lips purse and he hesitates a moment before turning his phone around and pushing it across the counter. Otabek sets his fork aside and picks up Yuri’s cell. The Yuri’s Angels’ instagram account is pulled up and the first four pictures are all of the two of them shopping at Nevsky Prospekt.

“Well,” Otabek says quietly to fill the silence. He taps on the first picture, a zoomed in close-up of their fingers folded together. The caption is barely comprehensible screaming about how Yuri is taken, their Fairy is off the market, stolen by that terrible Kazakh. 

He arches an eyebrow, glancing over the phone at Yuri and letting out a sigh as he loads up the next picture. It’s more of the same, the two of them crossing the street, holding hands. The picture is from behind but it’s still unmistakably them. With how intense Yuri’s fans are, there’s no way they’d be fooled by people who look like the two of them.

Yuri is carefully biting his fingernail off when Otabek closes the app and locks his phone. 

“Stop that,” he says, tugging Yuri’s hand away from his mouth. “Are you upset?” he asks.

Hazel eyes flick up to his. Yuri immediately shakes his head. “Not that people know. Just that we didn’t get to control how it came out.”

“We weren’t discreet,” Otabek points out. “We’re in your country, practically at your home rink. We knew this would happen.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, twisting his phone in a circle with his finger. “You’re right.”

Otabek pokes at his pancake with his fork. “What are you thinking, then?”

Yuri’s mouth purses a bit and then he looks up at Otabek. “I feel like I wanted to keep this to ourselves longer. Keep it private. You know?”

Otabek does know. He’s always been a private person, careful with his emotions, and cautious in his actions. Except for the moment when he stopped in that alley. All caution went out the window when he decided to try to get to know Yuri.

He nods. “I get it. But I’m not upset. I like people knowing that you’re mine.”

Yuri’s head comes up, his eyebrows lost behind his fringe. “You’re mine too,” he says, something like defiance in his voice. “I won’t just be had.”

Otabek takes his hand and squeezes. “I’ve been gone on you, in my head, since we were kids. Of course I’m yours.”

A flush spreads rapidly over Yuri’s cheeks and he squeezes Otabek’s hand.

“Good,” he says, picking up his fork again. “Right.” He’s smiling. “Fuck.” Yuri drops his head onto his arm and groans. “What are you _doing_ to me?” he asks, a whine in his voice.

Otabek ruffles his hair and picks up a strip of bacon. “Eat your breakfast,” he says.

 

\--

 

Otabek is lying on the bed, texting with his sister, when Yuri comes in and drapes himself over his back. They have plans to visit the Church on Spilled Blood later, but Otabek had promised to chat with Jasna for a while first. 

Yuri nuzzles at his neck for a moment, stimulating the scent gland behind his ear. Otabek shudders. 

“You smell good,” Yuri tells him, sliding off of his back and onto his side. “Your sister?” he asks, glancing up at the phone in his hands. 

“Mhmm,” Otabek hums. “You wanna FaceTime with me?”

Yuri hesitates. “Isn’t that… private?”

“She’ll be excited to talk to you. She wants to meet you,” Otabek says, rubbing his knuckles against the underside of Yuri’s jaw. 

Yuri drops his gaze and reaches out to push Otabek’s sleeve up. Yuri’s fingertips trace feather-light over the hard lines of his biceps for a few moments before he leans in to press his lips against the skin. Otabek wants to close his eyes at the touch, like a particularly pleased cat.

Otabek sends his text to Jasna and looks over at Yuri. He really is a beautiful little thing. His blonde hair is thick and glossy, his eyes clear and bright, framed by thick, curly lashes, and his lips are soft and full. He’s gorgeous. 

Otabek leans over and kisses him slowly. “Come on,” he says, pulling Yuri closer with his arm around his shoulders. “Keeping my sister waiting.”

Yuri huffs a breath but nods, adjusting his hair back over his eye. Otabek rings Jasna.

Yuri spends the duration of the call looking a little bit awkward and a lot smug, looking occasionally over at Otabek while he talks to his sister. He wants Yuri to participate in the conversation, but he mostly stays quiet, listening to the two of them. He hopes that Yuri knows how important this is to him. To introduce someone to his little sister is bigger than big for him. He’s never done it before and he never would, unless they were something truly special. It’s more telling than renting an apartment so the two of them can spend the summer together. 

Yuri lies beside him with his feet kicked up behind him, pressed shoulder to shoulder with Otabek. He obviously loses the conversation when Jasna switches to speaking Kazakh to tell Otabek how pretty she thinks Yuri is. He scolds her briefly, asking how she’s so certain that Yuri can’t understand them. She just rolls her eyes at him. 

After a minute or so, Yuri pushes himself up and rolls off the bed, stretching with his arms over his head.

Otabek follows the movement, watching his shirt ride up and expose the sharp cut of his narrow hips, the dimples at the base of his spine. His skin is so fair and smooth.

“Come back,” he says, shaking himself out of it when Yuri turns around and catches him staring. He pats the bed beside him. “Don’t let this little goblin run you off.”

An indignant, “hey!” comes from his phone.

“I think I’ll call my Grandpa,” Yuri tells him, pulling his phone from his back pocket. 

Otabek nods after a moment. “We can leave when you’re done.” Yuri smiles and ducks out of the room, pulling the door mostly shut behind him. Otabek sighs and rubs at his face with his hand. “You couldn’t wait to tell me he’s cute when he wasn’t around?”

“Can he understand us?”

“No, but that was kind of rude.”

Jasna pouts her bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to make him mad.”

“He’s not mad.” Otabek doesn’t think he is, anyway.

“I like him,” she says brightly, tucking her hair back behind her ear.

Otabek grins. “Yeah, me too.”

 

\--

 

He finds Yuri slouched so low on the couch that his hair is barely visible over the back cushions. His bare feet are kicked up on the old chest that serves as a coffee table, toes wiggling. He’s saying goodbye to his Grandpa as Otabek comes around to sit down beside him. 

Yuri’s phone background is a picture of his cat, which Otabek finds endlessly endearing.

Otabek puts his feet beside Yuri’s and his arm around him. Yuri moves in closer and settles his head on Otabek’s shoulder. He can’t stop staring at Yuri’s feet. He wonders how long it’s been since Yuri has taken a week off, like this. The bruises on his feet are relatively new, and there’s still a cut on his right foot that has a bandage on it. He knocks his foot into Yuri’s.

“How’s your Grandpa?”

“Good. Says you better be keeping me in the manner to which I’ve become accustomed.” Otabek laughs. Yuri tips his head back to look at him, a small smile on his lips, and Otabek has to kiss him. 

“Am I?” he asks. Yuri purses his lips and hums like he’s thinking about it. Otabek lets out a sound of faux disbelief. “So rude to me.”

A hand presses against his belly and then around his side. Yuri turns on his hip and hooks a leg over his thigh, moving his head to find a comfortable spot against his chest. 

“You’re pretty good,” he eventually settles on. 

Otabek rests a hand on his hip, pushing his thumb up under Yuri’s shirt to brush his skin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

\--

 

Sightseeing has never been a huge draw in a city where Otabek has skated competitively. He’s usually spent his time alone, practicing or training in the gym, or at most, running near the hotel he’s staying at when it’s not too cold to do so. Yuri wants to show him around and Otabek is content to let him.

The Church on Spilled Blood is more imposing in real life than in any of the pictures he’s seen of it, although the effect is countered somewhat by the amount of tourists walking around. Yuri seems annoyed, gripping his hand as he leads him, dodging around groups of people speaking a myriad of languages and taking photos of each other with the Church in the background.

Yuri finally draws to an abrupt stop and pulls out his phone.

“Come on,” he says, pulling Otabek closer.

“Time for a selfie?” he asks, putting his arm around Yuri’s shoulders, letting his fingers catch one of the drawstrings of his hoodie and twist it between them.

Yuri rolls his eyes at him, mutters, “old man,” under his breath as he holds his phone out. He can’t seem to get the angle right, though, and it only takes a moment before he’s handing Otabek his phone. “Your arms are longer,” he says, putting his arm around Otabek’s waist and holding up two fingers with his free hand.

Otabek pulls Yuri closer, his blonde hair fluttering against his cheek in the breeze. He has a moment, looking at his own image, where he realizes how thick his stubble has gotten. Yuri hasn’t complained yet, he reasons; he’ll worry about it then.

Otabek chooses the angle as best he can, getting one of the domes and half of another in the shot behind them. Yuri is content with the picture, and Otabek has to guide him around with a hand on the small of his back while he edits the colors to post it to his instagram. 

“Beka,” Yuri says, still looking down at his phone. 

“Yeah?” 

“Carry me.”

Otabek lets out a laugh. “What?”

“Let me get on your back.” 

It doesn’t sound like a request but Otabek isn’t in the business of denying Yuri anything anyway. He turns and squats down, fingertips pressed to the ground to maintain his balance. Bony knees dig into his sides, thighs clenching and arms wrapping around his neck.

Otabek stands, hooking his hands under Yuri’s knees. He smiles when Yuri smacks a kiss on his cheek, hitching him up further. 

“Here,” Yuri says, holding his phone out as he leans further over Otabek’s shoulder. “Smile.”

When Yuri’s cheek presses against his temple, and he sees his turned up mouth on the screen, Otabek is powerless to resist.

“Send me that one,” Otabek says as he starts to walk back the direction they’d come. His phone buzzes with the text as Yuri lays his head down on his shoulder, his scent bleeding contentment. The feeling in his chest is so warm and familiar that Otabek wonders how he ever lived before Yuri taught him to recognize it.

 

\--

 

Later, after Otabek has cooked and they’ve eaten dinner, they settle on the couch. Yuri lies on his back with his ankles crossed on the armrest and his head on Otabek’s thigh. Otabek watches some documentary on deep-sea life absently as he drags his fingers through Yuri’s hair over and over. King lies on the chest beside Otabek’s feet, sleeping on his back with his paws up in the air like a dog.

Yuri is looking up at his phone, holding it over his face. “Gross,” he mumbles.

Otabek glances over at him for a moment, then back at the television where a fairly disgusting looking fish is floating around in near blackness.

“What?” he asks, working his fingers through a snarl in Yuri’s hair.

“Fuckin’ JJ liked the picture of us.”

Otabek looks down at Yuri, the scowl on his pretty face. “Yeah?” he asks.

Yuri tips his head further back to look at him a bit incredulously. He opens his mouth but before he can say anything a new notification pops up on his phone and he glances at it. Otabek takes an elbow to the stomach as Yuri jerks upright. 

“He commented on it,” he says, gaping at his phone.

“Okay?” Otabek says. 

Yuri turns on him, showing him the screen.

> **Jjleroy!15** nice, kitten.

Otabek arches an eyebrow.

“Why would he even—“ Yuri huffs. “I’m gonna block him.”

“Yura,” Otabek says, laughing a little. “He’s flirting with you.”

“What? No he isn’t!”

The sound Otabek lets out is half astonishment and half disbelief. “Yuri… yes, he is. He’s always trying to rile you up, then you respond and give him attention.”

“Why? Is that what you do?” Yuri asks, making a face that involves him sticking his tongue out. 

“I prefer the method of rescuing princes in distress on my motorcycle. Much more direct.” Otabek leans his elbow against the back of the couch and reaches over to tuck Yuri’s hair behind his ear to watch the blush spread across his cheeks. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen a picture or video of Yuri where his hair has been this long before, he muses absently.

Yuri’s staring at him, his cheeks stained a faint pink and his lips just barely parted. Before he can respond, his phone lights up in his hand and he looks back down at it and sputters indignantly.

Otabek plucks it out of his hands before he can do something potentially damaging like hurl it into the flat screen across from them. 

There’s a new notification on a picture Yuri had posted when they’d first arrived at the apartment, with King curled up on his pillow, looking adorable. _King loves his new home._ the caption reads.

> **Jjleroy!15** u named ur cat after me??? I’m flattered ;) 

“Give it, Beka!” Yuri growls, practically climbing on top of him as he reaches for his phone.

“He’s harmless,” Otabek insists, putting his hand on Yuri’s chest even as he’s forced down onto his back with his arm stretched out above his head.

“He’s a self-important ass and I hate him. If I had a rat, I wouldn’t name it after that pompous dick.” He swipes for his phone but Otabek wraps a leg around his waist and pins Yuri to him. He lets out a grunt as Yuri drops his full weight on top of him. “Otabek,” he says, staring blankly at his phone.

Otabek looks up at him. “Yes, my prince?”

Yuri takes hold of his face and pinches his lips together until Otabek sputters a laugh. 

“Give me my phone.”

“Say you’re gonna leave JJ alone.”

Yuri tips his head down so they’re looking at one another from so close up that Otabek feels like he’s going a bit cross-eyed. 

“You know, if he’s flirting with me then you’d think you wouldn’t be encouraging me to be nice to him,” Yuri points out.

“JJ’s my friend.” Yuri gags and Otabek rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “He probably doesn’t even know why he flirts with you.”

“Hey,” Yuri interrupts, frowning.

“And if he knew you and I were together, he’d stop.”

Yuri slumps against him, letting his arm dangle over the side of the couch. Otabek cautiously lowers his own because his fingers are starting to go numb from the awkwardness of the angle.

“So me wanting him to stop isn’t a good enough reason, but if you wanted him to…”

“That’s not what I said. And have you told him to stop?”

“No,” Yuri grumbles. “You took my phone.”

Otabek smacks him lightly on the ass and Yuri jerks, pushing himself up with his hands against his chest. Otabek smiles at him.

“Did you just spank me?”

“Tell him to stop, but do it without threats of bodily harm.”

Yuri collapses against him with a huff. “Pointless, then. He’ll never listen.” A finger digs into Otabek’s side. “You should be telling him to lay off. Defend my honor or whatever it is you alphas do.”

“Mostly posture and piss on our territory.”

Yuri snorts when he laughs.

 

\--

 

Sometimes it feels to Otabek that he and Yuri spend half of their relationship missing one another, and the other half of it lying around in bed together. He doesn’t actually mind what they’re doing when they’re together, so long as they’re doing it together. Yuri doesn’t really seem to care either.

Otabek showers again before bed and Yuri drags himself off to do the same with only minor grumbling about not even having worked out or gotten sweaty at all. He waits up, getting through ten pages in the biography he’s brought along with him from home, before Yuri climbs into bed beside him. He huffs and grumbles the entire time he gets under the sheets. His hair is tied up on top of his head, damp at the back of his neck where he rests against Otabek’s shoulder.

“Are you going to cut this?” he asks, trailing his fingers over Yuri’s hairline. 

Yuri shrugs. “Might let it keep going.”

Otabek nods and leans his cheek against the top of Yuri’s head. 

The room is quiet while Otabek searches for a place to stop reading. He thinks Yuri might have fallen asleep until he sits up, flipping the covers off of himself, and gets out of bed to go rummage around in the shopping bags they haven’t unpacked yet.

Otabek dogears his page and sets the book down on the floor. They really need to get bedside tables. 

“Here,” Yuri says, climbing back in beside him again.

Otabek looks down at Yuri’s hand. He’s holding out a bracelet; it’s braided black cords with three small beads dangling on each tie. White, blue, red. Yuri is determinedly not looking at him as Otabek holds up his left wrist and allows Yuri to tie it on. 

“Good?” he asks, glancing up as Otabek shakes his hand around a bit to check the fit.

“Perfect.” He tucks his arm around Yuri and pulls him in to kiss him. “Thank you,” he murmurs, pressing soft, gentle kisses on his lips. Yuri cups his jaw with his hand and leans into each touch of their mouths. 

Otabek thinks about trying for more, deepening the kiss, touching Yuri, lying him back and seeing where it goes. But he’s tired and Yuri seems content to just kiss, so that’s what they do. Eventually Otabek squirms down until his head is on his pillow and Yuri is lying on his back, head on Otabek’s chest, staring at the ceiling. 

He combs his fingers through Yuri’s hair until they bump against the bun on top of his head. The content feeling in his chest turns to something like pride at having Yuri so relaxed. So trusting of him. Otabek realizes with a start that he can actually smell it in Yuri’s scent. Even with the blockers, Yuri’s contentment is sweet and strong in the air between them. It’s incredible. He brushes his finger along Yuri’s eyebrow and a hand reaches up to capture his. The kiss pressed to his palm is soft and unexpected; he closes his eyes as Yuri folds their fingers together and settles their hands over his sternum. 

After a while, Yuri’s voice breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.”

Yuri rubs the fingers of his free hand over Otabek’s knuckles repetitively. 

“You’ve had sex before, right?” he asks, voice quiet and even. The heart beating under his hand belies his tone; he squeezes his fingers around Yuri’s.

“Yeah. A few times.”

Yuri’s fingers still on his knuckles. “With who?”

“Does that matter?” he asks. Yuri won’t like his answer no matter what it is and he’s hesitant to go down this road. 

“Tell me,” Yuri says seriously. Otabek sighs. “Beka,” he insists, “come on.”

Otabek licks his lips and lets out a breath through his nose. “My friend, Maxim.”

“Is he a beta?”

“Alpha.”

Yuri turns then, twisting his entire body around until he’s lying on his stomach, looking at him. Otabek’s heart stutters in his chest; Yuri is so fucking beautiful. The expression on his face is disbelieving.

“You fucked an alpha?”

Otabek groans, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. “Yuri, it doesn’t matter.”

“Did he knot you?” He sounds mildly horrified by the idea. With good reason. Otabek has heard horror stories about alphas trying to knot under-prepared betas. 

“No, Yura. He always stopped before he knotted.” Yuri studies him for a moment; Otabek watches his nostrils flare and he knows he’s being scented for the truth. “You don’t believe me?” he asks indignantly.

Yuri shakes his head, but he’s staring at Otabek’s throat now, looking like he’s trying to make sense of this. 

“You’re still friends with him?” he asks, gaze lifting back to his own again.

“We’ve been friends since I was a child. I’m not going to give that up.”

“How long ago was it?” 

Otabek presses his head back into the pillow with a groan, rubbing at his eyes with both hands, now. “Yuri.”

“Beka, come on.”

“I was sixteen, he was nineteen. It was just sex, Yuri.”

The look on Yuri’s face is something approaching upset, and Otabek can smell it in his scent that he’s uncertain. As much as he hates being questioned on his past choices and possibly even his loyalty to Yuri now, he can’t stand to see that hurt on his face. He takes Yuri’s head in both hands, stroking his thumbs over his cheeks and drawing his gaze up with a quiet, “Hey.”

Yuri meets his eyes. “What?”

“Don’t do that. You know I care about you.” 

Yuri picks at the faded lettering on Otabek’s t-shirt. “I know,” he says quietly. “How do you know he doesn’t still have feelings for you, though?”

“Yurochka,” Otabek says, feeling that timbre of _alpha_ instilling itself in his voice without conscious thought. He wonders if he’ll ever start having control over that. Yuri shivers a little against him, closing his eyes for a moment. “It wasn’t ever like that. We’re just friends; I need you to believe me.”

Yuri bites on his lips for a few seconds before he heaves a sigh and more or less collapses against Otabek’s chest, pressing an ear to his heart. 

“I believe you,” he mumbles.

Otabek rubs at his bicep, trying to ward off the chill he can feel seeping into his exposed skin. 

“Nothing will change how I feel about you,” he murmurs. Yuri sighs again but he stays silent otherwise. 

Unbidden, Maxim’s voice filters into his thoughts, _The alpha part or the being in love part?_. He swallows the lump forming in the back of his throat and pulls Yuri up the bed, maneuvering him around until he can curl around his back. Otabek presses a lingering kiss to his neck, tightening his arms around him. Yuri settles in contently.

 

\--

 

The next morning dawns dark and overcast. Neither of them has skated since coming to St. Petersburg; they’d mutually decided to take a week off and just _be together_. Yuri has shown him around the city and Otabek has cooked for him, they’ve gone shopping and sight seeing, and generally just enjoyed being with one another. They haven’t had the chance since Yuri first came to stay with him in Almaty, the first time, and that had gone to hell at the end. Right now, they’re just existing together and Otabek doesn’t think he’s ever been happier.

He can’t remain sedentary for so many days, however. Otabek hasn’t gone a week without working out in a long, long time, and his body is starting to itch for something more than walking.

He gets out of bed without waking Yuri and dresses for a run in the murky light filtering in through gaps in the curtains they’d failed to close entirely last night. Otabek brushes back the hair that has come loose from Yuri’s bun in the night, and leans in to kiss his cheek.

Yuri stirs then. “Where’re you going?” he mumbles, barely opening his eyes.

“For a run. Go back to sleep, it’s early,” Otabek half-whispers. The door creaks and he turns, seeing Flura slip into the room. 

“I’ll come with you.” Yuri doesn’t move and his eyes fall shut again.

Otabek smiles at him, fingers still stroking over his loose hair. “You hate running.”

“Love you, though,” Yuri murmurs.

Otabek’s breath catches painfully. His hand stutters to a stop on Yuri’s hair and he almost asks, _what?_ but Yuri isn’t really awake. He doesn’t know he’s even said anything, if it even counts at all. 

Otabek withdraws his hand and Yuri mumbles something unintelligible and turns his face further into the pillow. Flura jumps onto the foot of the bed and makes her way up to lie in the space where Yuri’s knees bend. She bats lazily at his hand when he rubs at the top of her head.

“Watch him,” he whispers. She yawns back at him.

Otabek lets himself out of the apartment, shoving his phone into his armband and putting his earbuds in as he trots down the steps and out onto the sidewalk. He stretches when he realizes he hadn’t inside, and starts running. 

He hopes that the kilometers will clear his head, but they don’t. Every footfall seems to drown out his music, the familiar ache in his feet only sharpens his concentration. He can’t focus on the view, the water passing by, or the darker clouds rolling in overhead. He can only hear Yuri’s sleepy voice telling him he loves him, over and over. 

He doesn’t even realize that it’s started to rain until he’s blinking water out of his eyes. 

By the time he makes it back to the apartment, he’s absolutely soaked. His shirt is clinging to him and he thinks he could dump water out of his shoes. He rakes a hand through his hair, sending a fresh shower of droplets onto his neck, making him shiver. He’d kill for a hot shower.

Yuri is awake when he comes in, doing something in the kitchen as Otabek toes out of his shoes and unstraps the band from his arm. He works his shirt up over his head as he comes barefoot into the kitchen, fighting with the wet, clinging fabric. Yuri turns with a mug of tea in his hands and his eyes go wide. 

“Wow,” he hears Yuri breathe.

Otabek glances down at his bare torso, his peaked nipples, the damp trail of hair on his belly. He looks at Yuri and arches an eyebrow as he starts to grin.

“Yeah?” he asks, watching Yuri flush and set his mug down.

Yuri surprises him when he says, “Yeah,” and closes the distance between them, their chests bumping as he pulls Otabek down into a fierce kiss.

Otabek drops his shirt and draws Yuri closer, practically crushing them together as he takes the hard press of Yuri’s lips, the push of his tongue. Yuri’s arms wind around his shoulders and Otabek hoists him up. Legs wrap around his waist and fingers fist in his hair, tilting his head back as the angle changes, putting Yuri up higher than him. 

He takes it, kissing back until his jaw aches and his chin is wet from Yuri’s mouth. When Yuri grinds against his stomach, his cock hard between them, he feels himself shake. He walks them quickly to the nearest wall and pushes Yuri back against it. He swallows the moan Yuri lets loose and kisses him even harder. Yuri rubs against him, pulling at his hair, and whining into his mouth all the while.

Otabek breaks the kiss to bite his way down Yuri’s jaw to his neck. This close to Yuri’s ear, and the scent gland just behind it, he can smell the intoxicating scent of Yuri’s arousal. It’s heady, thick and delicious, and Otabek wants more. He laves his tongue over the soft indent of skin and feels Yuri shudder, hears his head thunk back against the wall, and his quiet gasp. Sparks of pain scatter across his scalp and down his neck when Yuri pulls violently on his hair.

“Fuck, Yuri,” he rasps, dragging his teeth over the tender skin of his throat; he can hear his own stubble scraping as he moves.

“Beka,” Yuri gasps, rubbing harder against him. “Beka, please. Please.”

“What do you want?” Otabek asks. He’ll do anything, _anything_ to hear Yuri say his name like that. 

Fingers scratch up over his shoulders and down his chest to touch his nipples. When he pinches, Otabek cries out against his throat and Yuri whines into his ear. 

“Touch me,” Yuri pleads. “Anything. I need anything, Beka.”

Otabek uses the wall and Yuri’s own legs around his waist to brace his weight, and slides his hands from the backs of Yuri’s thighs to his ass. Yuri moans sweetly when he squeezes. His fingertips press into damp fabric and Otabek realizes with a start that Yuri is wet for him. He’d been absolutely dripping against his thigh the other night, but Otabek hadn’t been able to focus on it, so lost in the delirious pleasure of having Yuri’s hands on him for the first time. He wants to now. He wants to give Yuri everything that he needs, to make him moan and come and say Otabek’s name all the while.

He draws his head up and crushes their lips together again, sucking Yuri’s tongue into his mouth as he kneads Yuri’s ass with both hands. Yuri is rubbing up against him in a sort of rhythm now, making Otabek’s own cock throb where it’s trapped against his thigh by his running pants. Otabek presses his fingers harder into the growing damp patch of fabric and listens to Yuri cry out again, clutching him tighter.

Otabek presses the tip of his middle finger against Yuri’s hole and groans when he feels it clench. He can smell the fresh rush of slick that follows. 

“Christ, Beka, _please_ ,” Yuri practically sobs. “I _need_ you.”

Otabek hauls him up off the wall and wraps his arms around him tightly. Yuri kisses him, biting at his lips, before moving down to his neck again and worrying a mouthful of skin between his teeth. Otabek hopes it’ll bruise.

He kicks the door shut to keep out the cats and crosses the distance to the bed before peeling Yuri off of him and laying him out on the unmade sheets. Yuri looks resplendent, beautiful and pale against dark blue sheets, his thick blonde hair spread out wildly around his head. 

Otabek kneels between his spread thighs and kisses him, pushing his shirt up with both hands. Yuri quickly gets the idea and arches up, yanking at the fabric until he can toss it off the bed. Yuri grabs for him but Otabek pushes his arms down against the mattress and kisses him again before pulling away. Sitting back on his heels, he takes a moment to look down at Yuri, bare-chested and flushed, hard cock an obvious tent in his sweatpants, the damp fabric between his legs. He’s gorgeous; Otabek is a lucky man. 

Curling his fingers in the waistband of Yuri’s sweats, he tugs, and Yuri arches his hips to help. Otabek gets to his feet as he tosses the balled up fabric to the floor, and he takes in Yuri, lying naked now with his cock red and leaking onto his hip. 

He holds up his arms and flexes his fingers at Otabek. “Beka, come on,” he whispers. Otabek reaches for the crook of Yuri’s knee and strokes gently down the back of his calf. 

“On your knees, Yura,” he says, doing his level best to keep all alpha influence out of his voice. He must manage it because Yuri just lies there, chest heaving, and staring at him. “Come on, Yuri,” he coaxes gently.

Yuri licks his bottom lip and shakes his head a little. “I want to see you,” he breathes. “Let me stay on my back.”

It takes a moment for Otabek to realize that Yuri thinks he wants to have him from behind. The visual of it makes his stomach twist with heat and his cock jerk against his leg. He suppresses a full-body shiver.

“No, Yuri, it’s not that. I promise.”

“Then what?” Yuri asks.

“Trust me. On your knees for me.”

Yuri continues staring at him for a long moment before he complies, turning onto his side and getting on his hands and knees. Otabek guides him, spreading his legs apart so that he can kneel between them. Yuri’s cheeks are pink and his hair is getting damp at the roots when he looks at Otabek over his shoulder. 

“Yeah?” he asks, voice cracking on the word.

“Perfect,” Otabek assures him, sliding his hands up the backs of Yuri’s thighs as he makes himself comfortable. The smell of Yuri’s slick is intoxicating, so close up; it runs thick and wet down the insides of his thighs. “Perfect,” he breathes as he puts his hands on Yuri’s cheeks and spreads them further, leaning in and running his tongue over his hole without preamble.

Yuri jerks forward, falling to his elbows as he cries out. “Beka!” 

Otabek only pulls away enough to ask, “Okay?”

Yuri pants for a moment, head hanging down and fingers gripping fistfuls of their sheets, and then he nods. Otabek adjusts his hands, using his thumbs to spread his hole further; he’s already open, clenching at the feeling of Otabek’s breath, allowing even more slick to leak from him. Fuck, he’s so _wet_.

Otabek flattens his tongue and draws it slowly up his perineum to his hole again. Yuri’s desperate cries fill his ears as he revels in the way his entire body shakes as Otabek tastes him. 

And Yuri tastes _incredible_. He laps at his hole, over and over, drawing in the taste, so sharp and sweet. He wants more. He never wants to stop. He presses in harder, pushing his tongue past the fluttering muscle, and Yuri collapses further, his face buried in the sheets.

Yuri muffles himself as Otabek pulls back and licks up the inside of one thigh, pausing to press his forehead to the pert swell of his ass cheek. 

“Yuri,” he rasps, startled at how closely his voice resembles a growl. He swallows and shudders at the taste of _Yuri_. He needs more of it. 

“Beka,” Yuri says, his voice hitching. “Don’t stop,” he whispers, begging.

Otabek is helpless to deny either of them. He buries his face between Yuri’s cheeks and pushes his tongue in again. Yuri leaks slick constantly, thick and wonderful, and Otabek is so hard he thinks he might come without even touching himself.

The sound of the fitted sheet coming loose has him opening his eyes. Yuri pulls the sheets closer in his white-knuckled fists, lying with his weight on his shoulder, mouth open and panting. His face is screwed up in pleasure, flushed red and sweaty, looking like every single wet dream Otabek has ever had, all rolled into one.

He refocuses his attention, groaning at the rush of slick over his tongue. He had no idea an omega could get so _wet_. He can’t help the thoughts of taking Yuri, of fucking him like this, feeling that slick hole around his cock, of pressing into him, _knotting_ him, having Yuri come from it. He wants Yuri to want it as badly as he does. 

“Touch me,” Yuri’s quiet whisper jolts him. He pauses in his relentless ministrations and pulls back.

“What?”

“Can you touch me? Please?” he murmurs, sounding strained but oddly collected. 

Otabek sits back and looks at him, rubbing a thumb over Yuri’s hole again and again, feeling it clench every time. Yuri smells like a dream, like every single good, amazing thing in life was placed inside this little body, and given to him. Otabek has never liked his alpha senses as much as he does right now.

“Are you still okay?” he asks, tracing Yuri’s rim with the pad of his thumb. He wants to push in so badly, to feel that wet heat around his fingers.

Yuri nods. “Yeah. Beka, please,” he says, his voice still quiet. “Want you in me so bad.”

Otabek registers the words like a bat to the head. It’s stunning to hear Yuri say it, to be able to smell the desire for it; it makes his own cock leak, soaking a damp patch into his running pants. He wonders briefly if this is the scent his doctor had told him that Yuri is producing just for him, or if this is how Yuri always smells when he’s aroused.

Either way, Otabek wants it. All of it, every bit of Yuri.

He gets off the bed long enough to shove his running pants down to his ankles and kick them off before he kneels on the mattress again. He moves forward, between Yuri’s thighs, and presses his cock into the slick cleft of his ass. Yuri moans hoarsely, turning his face into the sheets as he shakes. Otabek plants his hands on either side of Yuri’s shoulders and holds himself up while he rocks his hips, sliding sticky and wet and so, so good over his hole.

Yuri shifts his weight so that his arms are braced in front of him and he rocks back. Otabek’s hips stutter and he groans, putting a hand on Yuri’s hip as he watches him rub back onto his cock.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Yuri asks, tipping his head to the side. 

Otabek squeezes his hip, hands feeling suddenly sweaty. “Not now. Not yet. I wanna watch you come for me,” he says, nudging Yuri’s hair aside to suck at the salt-sticky tendons of his neck.

The hand on his hip slides lower and finally wraps around Yuri’s cock. It’s thick and hard and wet with precome, and it jumps under his touch. Yuri flexes his hips forward into the tight lock of Otabek’s fist, whining and clenching at the blankets. It doesn’t take much; Yuri has been strung out and teased and touched for entirely too long. He thrusts into Otabek’s hand, and back against his cock, panting and shaking his head as he starts to shudder.

“Otabek,” he gasps, pulling hard on sheets and then his hips are rabbiting forward into Otabek’s fist, and he’s coming. Yuri comes so hard that he chokes on his breath, soaking Otabek’s fingers in thick spurts that smell like heaven to Otabek’s over-wrought senses.

Otabek can’t even hold out for Yuri to finish coming before he’s rutting forward, grinding himself against his still-leaking hole and coming. His knot throbs painfully as it swells quickly, hot and hard, and Otabek’s orgasm knocks the breath right out of him.

He grips Yuri’s hip with one hand and Yuri’s fingers with the other, and presses his forehead between sweat-sticky shoulder blades as he gasps and groans and jerks. It feels like he comes for forever over Yuri’s ass, the dimples at the base of his spine, and the backs of his thighs. Yuri’s legs shake terribly and Otabek feels vaguely guilty about leaning on him so much, but he can’t stop. He’s still coming, spurting in thick pulses over Yuri’s back; he lets go of his hip to squeeze his knot, hoping it’ll help somehow, but it just makes him cry out and jerk forward harder.

Yuri tips his head back. “Otabek,” he says, voice raspy in his throat. “Beka, you feel so good,” he continues. “Love feeling you all over me.”

“Fuck, Yuri,” Otabek gasps, unclenching his fist to jerk the head of his cock, tight and fast. “Fuck. I don’t think—I can’t stop.”

It’s a mildly terrifying thought that he has no real control over this yet. He can’t stop the overwhelming flood of pleasure, he can’t stop himself from coming; he can’t do anything when he’s in this state. 

“Don’t want you to stop,” Yuri says, interrupting his thoughts with his soft, low purr. “Want you to feel good.”

Otabek presses his forehead harder to the sweaty point of Yuri’s shoulder blade and keeps coming until he thinks he’s going to pass out.

When it’s finally over, when Otabek’s knot is still swollen and tender, but the constant rush of pleasure is ebbing and he’s no longer coming, he collapses beside Yuri. He tries to even out his breathing, even though his lungs ache, still wanting to gasp for more. Yuri remains on his knees beside him; he pushes up onto his elbows and rakes his sweaty hair back with one hand, looking at Otabek.

They stare at one another for a long moment before Yuri leans over and kisses him soundly. He holds Yuri’s cheek with his dry hand and doesn’t let go until Yuri gets up off the bed on shaky legs. His back is absolutely covered with come, still running down his sides and now over the swell of his ass as he pads into the bathroom. 

Otabek sits up, looking down at his waning knot, and then at the mess they’ve made of the sheets. He’s got to get control of himself if only so they’re not constantly having to do laundry. Either that or learn to put down towels first. He follows Yuri into the bathroom and finds him at the sink, trying to wipe at his back with a wet washcloth.

“Here,” Otabek says, taking it from him and tossing it into the sink, “shower.” Yuri nods at his reflection in the mirror, looking sated and tired.

He kind of wants to fill the bathtub and pick Yuri up and sit in it with him, but he can already hear the complaints of how filthy that would be. So he starts the shower and closes the bathroom door so that the room can heat with steam. Yuri lets Otabek wash him down, kissing him all the while.

When they’re finished, he bundles Yuri in a towel, tucking his own around his waist, and goes to grab him something to put on. He’s halfway through changing the sheets on the bed when Yuri emerges, damp towel wrapped around his shoulders, his hair still clinging wetly to his neck, and helps him. 

One of the cats is meowing outside the door, so he opens it a crack and both cats come running into the room. Yuri pats the bed and Flura comes bounding up onto it, making her way to his pillow where she lies down around his head. 

“Still the favorite,” Otabek says as he gets under the covers. 

Yuri smiles smugly. “Can’t help it if the kids like me better.”

Otabek leans over and kisses him. 

King evens the score when he comes to lie against Otabek’s chest. Yuri scowls at him. 

“That’s my spot,” he says, reaching over to scratch at his cat’s ears. King just purrs at him.

“Too slow, Plisetsky,” Otabek says and Yuri sticks his tongue out at him, settling down further into his pillow. 

Otabek puts an arm around his back as Yuri turns onto his stomach to get comfortable. He watches Yuri drift off again. Otabek isn’t tired but he doesn’t want to get up and leave Yuri here, either. He thinks about grabbing his book off of the floor and reading for a bit, but that seems like too much effort. He can’t take his eyes off of Yuri, anyway, combing his fingers slowly through his wet hair. Sleep doesn’t take him for a long time but Otabek doesn’t mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Watching Otabek stretch is a great way to start the morning. Yuri thinks he should always be greeted to the sight of Otabek on the floor, bent over his legs, holding onto his feet. Yuri pulls himself over to the side of the bed and watches him. He can see the slight tremor in Otabek’s arms, how difficult it is for him to hold the stretch, and how determined he is to do it anyway. It’s a bit of a turn on, really.

Otabek sits back with his hands on the floor behind him and looks up with an arched eyebrow. 

“Nice view,” Yuri says, propping his chin up in his hand. 

“Nice hair.”

Yuri scowls and flops over onto his back again. Otabek gets to his feet and leans over the bed, kissing him chastely on the lips.

“We’ll be late if you don’t get up,” Otabek tells him. He’s already dressed for the rink, wearing athletic leggings and one of those skin-tight shirts his sponsors send him. It’s another nice view as he watches Otabek pad around the room, collecting his things. “Yuri,” he says when he turns around and Yuri has made absolutely no progress in getting up.

“Fine, fine,” Yuri grumbles, pushing himself to the edge of the bed and getting to his feet. His back pops when he stretches his arms over his head. He fully plans on returning the favor and letting Otabek watch him stretch. Later, he tells himself as he heads into the bathroom. They’ll probably never get out of here if Yuri does that now, he thinks with a grin.

 

\--

 

They’ve been back skating for over a week now and Otabek has yet to meet anyone at the rink that he doesn’t already know. Yuri still splits time on the ice with Mila and Georgi, and frequently now Viktor and Katsuki as well. Viktor is back training with a vengeance so Yuri isn’t surprised to find him already there when they arrive.

Katsuki waves at them when they come in from the locker room. Otabek waves back while Yuri drops down on a nearby bench to tighten his laces. Otabek likes to put his skates on near the ice when he’s practicing. Yuri had asked him about it the first time he’d done it around him, and Otabek had said it’s a superstition, so Yuri doesn’t question it anymore. Fuck knows he’s got enough of them himself.

He watches Otabek lace up.

“How’s your ankle feeling?” Otabek asks. It’s ached a bit ever since he’d botched that landing at Worlds but Yuri has it wrapped and he ices it when it acts up. He shrugs off the concern.

“It’s fine. Hurry up.” Yuri taps his skates together over and over.

Otabek gives him an unimpressed look and sticks his other foot purposefully slowly into his skate. Yuri scoffs and stands up, removing his skate guards and tossing them aside. He considers one final, quick stretch, but Saturday is their light day, where they’re more prone to goofing off than doing anything strenuous. They spend more time trying to spray one another with snow from their stops than working on any real improvements. 

Viktor glides by slowly. “Pair skating today?” he asks with a lift of his eyebrows.

Yuri gives him a flat look. He’s going to have to stop beating that horse sooner or later. “Keep dreaming, old man,” Yuri says, taking off. Viktor catches up to him easily.

“I bet he’d be into it,” Viktor goes on, grinning at him.

“Fuck off with that,” Yuri says, giving him a shove. “We’re not leaping into each other’s arms for your sake.”

“Do it for his sake then,” Viktor tells him, laughing when Yuri tries to push his head away.

“Katsuki!” Yuri yells.

Both Yuuri and Otabek look up from where they’re talking along the boards. 

“What?” Katsuki shouts back.

Viktor is laughing, holding Yuri at bay while he tries to grab onto Viktor’s hair, scuffling with him all the while.

“Come collect this idiot before I pull what’s left of his hair out!”

Viktor gasps and grabs at him; Yuri lets out an involuntary laugh as he’s pushed down by the back of his neck and his shirt is tugged up his back, over his head. He’s fighting blind, until he hears the sound of approaching skates and then the hands on him vanish. He jerks upright, pulling his shirt down in time to watch as Otabek lifts Viktor’s much larger body from behind and skates backward with him.

Yuri throws up his arms and crows victory in their name, shouting, “Welcome back to the madness!” Viktor groans loudly, like he’s in pain, and Otabek’s smile makes his heart leap in his chest. Yuri is so gone on him; he doesn’t care to ever find his way back.

 

\--

 

They run into Mila as they’re leaving. She’s standing outside of the locker room with her arms folded against her chest, looking decidedly unimpressed. 

“Too good to skate with the rest of us anymore, are we?” she asks, bringing her hand up to inspect her impeccable red nails. 

Yuri heaves a sigh. “Don’t be stupid, Mila.”

He watches as her gaze drifts from her own nails to Otabek standing beside him. Her head tilts slightly and the corners of her mouth turn up. Yuri is instantly on edge, gritting his teeth as she sizes Otabek up. If she weren’t a beta, Yuri thinks the whole arena would probably be able to smell her pheromones.

“Hello again,” she says.

Yuri feels like his eyes are going to burst out of his head. _Again?_ When did these two meet before this? Without him? He looks at Otabek who looks relaxed, offering a brief, subdued smile at Mila as he adjusts his bag over his shoulder. 

“Hello,” he says, casual as you please.

Yuri’s face must be as thunderous as it feels because Mila makes a disgusted sound at him. 

“Seriously, Plisetsky,” she says, waving her fingers vaguely near her eyes, “wrinkles. Bad ones, coming your way, if you don’t stop walking around looking like that all the time.”

“Fuck off,” he practically barks at her, grabbing Otabek’s arm with his free hand and hauling himself closer. He hates feeling so defensive around her, but she is pretty and effortlessly chill, where he feels wound tight enough to snap. “When did you two meet?”

“We didn’t really,” Otabek says. “We watched you skate at Worlds together.” He can feel Otabek’s eyes on him even as he continues to glare at Mila. Seriously, who does she think she is? Doesn’t she have enough guys around to bat her eyelashes at without aiming it at Yuri’s as well?

Mila looks at his hand on Otabek’s arm for a moment before she draws her gaze back up to his. The grin on her face is terribly smug, and Yuri hates her a little bit. 

“Really?” she asks. Otabek puts his arm around Yuri’s shoulders. “The Hero really did kidnap the Fairy,” she says, letting out a faux dreamy sigh, putting her hands over her heart. “Yakov is going to shit himself.”

Yuri starts pulling Otabek toward the exit. “Tell him and die, hag,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Like he hasn’t already heard from Viktor,” she says, turning with a flourish and heading down the tunnel toward the ice. 

They call an uber back to the apartment because Yuri’s feet are sore and Otabek is walking in the careful manner that Yuri knows means he’s hiding a limp. He decides to wait until they’re in private to bring that up. Otabek greets their driver as they slide into the backseat, then a warm hand settles on his thigh and Yuri folds it between his own, holding it in his lap.

Before Yuri can get a word out, before the door is even shut behind them, Otabek is speaking. “You think your coach will care about this?” he asks, gesturing between the two of them. 

Yuri takes a breath as he drops his bag beside the couch. “No, and I wouldn’t care if he did.” 

It’s mostly the truth. This is Yuri’s life and he knows what and who he wants out of it, but Yakov is… important. Yuri would never admit it but he’d be upset it Yakov didn’t at least like Otabek. He strokes along Flura’s head when she jumps up onto the back of the couch to meow at him. He’ll tell Yakov soon, if he doesn’t know already. Lilia too.

He hears the thud of Otabek’s bag hitting the floor, the thump of his shoes being kicked off by the door. When he glances over, Otabek is biting his bottom lip; he runs a hand through his hair and looks up, right at him.

“What?” Yuri asks, because he can’t take the silence between them, right now. It’s tense and uncomfortable and Yuri wishes Mila had just fucked off today.

Otabek takes a step closer and reaches out, sliding his fingers down Yuri’s arm until he can fold their hands together.

“Nothing,” Otabek says. “I just can’t imagine being as brave as you are at your age.”

Yuri bites at his bottom lip a moment before he huffs. “My age,” he mumbles, “like I’m really so young.”

“That’s what I mean,” Otabek says, cupping Yuri’s cheek with his other hand. “I can’t imagine presenting so young and still going on like you have. Being so successful.”

Yuri’s cheeks heat at the praise. “I didn’t have a choice,” Yuri says quietly, swallowing against the sudden dryness of his throat. “What else was I supposed to do? This was my way out.”

“Of what?” Otabek asks, his voice a soothing rumble; Yuri can feel himself relaxing slightly at the pitch of it.

“A future that was just… me as an omega.” He shakes his head. “Just me waiting for some alpha to come claim me and mate me.” He can feel his face tensing with disgust. “And that’s all I’d ever be.”

Otabek licks his bottom lip and opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Yuri huffs a breath that blows his hair out of his face.

“What?” he asks.

“I just…” Otabek trails off for a moment, clearing his throat. “Don’t know who made you feel like that.”

“You mean besides practically everyone I’ve ever met?” Yuri asks.

Otabek looks at him for a moment before he nods. “Yeah, I mean besides everyone. Specifically.”

Yuri huffs and goes to sit down on the couch, feet tucked up under himself. He grabs one of the throw pillows and folds his arms around it. Otabek sits next to him but not close enough to touch. Even though Yuri appreciates the space, he kind of wishes Otabek would nudge up against him.

Yuri eventually finds the ability to start talking. “My mom.” He picks at the corner of the pillow in his lap. “After my dad fucked off, when I was like two, she didn’t really want anything to do with me.” He sniffs but it’s just because it’s so damp out; it’s really starting to make him feel under the weather lately. “You know, I don’t have hardly any memories of my mom, but I can still hear her talking about me to my Grandpa, the day she dropped me off with him. At least I think they’re memories.”

Otabek’s hand comes to rest on his ankle. “You wanna tell me?” he asks when Yuri doesn’t go on.

Yuri shrugs. “She was still young, she could still find another mate, but not with me around. She didn’t want me. She never did.”

“Yuri,” Otabek says, voice soft and full of sympathy, and everything that Yuri hates when he’s forced to think about the fact that his mother would rather get laid or whatever the fuck, than be a parent to him.

“Don’t,” Yuri says, looking at him. “Don’t go pitying me; I can’t stand it. Not from you. I have my Grandpa and he loves me. I don’t need her. I never have.”

He sniffs again.

The hand on his ankle stays, thumb rubbing gently over an old scar, tracing the line of it over and over. Yuri rubs at his eyes when they inexplicably start to well up.

“Fuck.”

“Yura,” Otabek murmurs, pulling him in with an arm around his shoulders. Yuri discards the pillow and lets himself be guided over into Otabek’s side. His cheek rests against his shoulder and slow, gentle kisses press against his cheek and up into his hair. Otabek nuzzles into him and holds him close, letting Yuri burrow in against him. He could hide away here forever, he thinks. Just him and Otabek and their cats. 

“Brave,” Otabek says quietly.

Yuri huffs a breath against his neck. “I guess.”

Otabek holds him until he doesn’t feel like he’s about to come apart at the seams anymore.

 

\--

 

He wakes up sometime later, on his stomach on the couch, with the thick, ugly blanket from the armchair in the corner covering him. The sound of rain pattering against the windows fills the apartment. He doesn’t remember lying down, much less falling asleep, but he’s warm and drowsy and he doesn’t feel like moving. 

King and Flura are lying beside one another on the chest less than a meter away. He snorts into the cushion under his cheek. “Knew you two would love each other eventually,” he murmurs to himself. He needs to get his phone and take a picture of this. 

He’s able to squirm his hand down into his pocket for it and take a couple of pictures without either of them getting up and jumping down from the chest. He saves the best one as his lock screen and texts it to Otabek.

It’s barely a minute later that he hears the sounds of footsteps coming down the hall and then the floor creaking. He pushes himself up and runs a hand through his hair as he gets to his knees. The blanket falls away and his arms prickle with goosebumps. The apartment is a little cold; he wonders vaguely if a window has been left cracked open in the kitchen or something.

“Hey,” Otabek says, leaning his hands on the back of the couch and looking down at him. 

Yuri rolls his lips over his teeth and worries them for a moment before he reaches up and pulls Otabek in for a slow, deep kiss. Otabek kisses him back, easy and sweet, with Yuri’s fingers fisting in his hair, holding him close. Yuri nudges their foreheads together for a moment when the kiss breaks and Otabek hums quietly.

“Thank you.”

Yuri snorts a breath and tugs on his hair. “You’re welcome.”

He lets go and gets up off the couch, stretching until his back pops. 

“You hungry?” Otabek asks, leaning his hip against the couch while Yuri comes around to stand in front of him, arms still folded against the chill of the apartment.

Yuri shakes his head. “Just tea or something is good.”

Otabek watches him for a moment, his gaze so intent that Yuri has to drop his. He never likes to be as emotional as he was earlier; it makes him feel awkward in the wake of it all. Otabek just squeezes his arm and kisses his forehead before heading into the kitchen.

Yuri follows, his socked feet slipping a little on the smooth kitchen tile. He takes a seat at the island as Otabek starts heating up water for him. He rests his chin in his hand and watches. 

“You still want to go out tonight?” Otabek asks when he turns around.

Yuri blinks. He’d forgotten it’s Saturday. Since he and Otabek had come back to St. Petersburg, Yuri’s standing date for lunch with Viktor and Yuuri has sort of fallen by the wayside. Instead, they’ve taken to going out Saturdays since they all tend to take Sunday off. Half of Yuri feels like saying no, he’d rather they stay in together, just the two of them, but the other half of him thinks watching the other two get drunk might actually make him feel better. Seeing a drunken Viktor, whose first instinct seems to always be taking off his clothes, being corralled by another person whose instinct is to pole dance, is never not hilarious to him. Otabek had been stunned the first time he’d witnessed it live himself.

Yuri pulls his sleeves down to cover his fists. “Yeah. Do you?”

Otabek pours water over a teabag for him and sets the mug in front of him. He shrugs. “If you do.”

“We could stay in,” Yuri says, pulling his mug in closer, letting it warm his fingertips. Otabek shrugs again and Yuri gives him an unimpressed look. “Beka.”

“Yura. I don’t care. If we go out, it means I get to dance with you. If we stay in, it means I get a quiet night of watching movies with you. I win either way.”

And really, it’s statements like that that makes Yuri want to smile so hard that his face hurts. He looks down at his tea and bites it back as best he can. Otabek can see it, though, because he reaches over the counter and pokes at his cheek.

Yuri swats at his hand with both of his. Otabek smiles at him and Yuri sets his elbow down hard and covers his mouth with his fingers, covering any trace of his smile.

Otabek laughs quietly and turns to make himself a cup of tea. 

When Yuri feels like he has his face under control he tucks his hair back with both hands and picks up his mug and takes a sip. Otabek leans against the opposite counter, watching him over his own mug. 

“I want to go out.”

Otabek lifts his eyebrows quickly and takes a drink. Yuri silently vows to make this night as frustrating as possible for him.

 

\--

 

They’ve only been to this club three times since they rented their apartment and Otabek is already, inexplicably, friends with the house DJ. He clasps Otabek’s hand and pulls him in to pound him on the back before letting go as they pass by. Yuri gets a nod and a raise of eyebrows over sunglasses so dark he can’t make out the beta’s eyes.

“Douchebag,” he mutters under his breath as Otabek leads him along by the hand toward the bar. 

Yuri waits at Otabek’s side, holding his hand and watching the wild colors flash over the crowd, feeling the bass of the song pounding in his chest. His own popularity as a national treasure and the club’s ownership not giving much of a shit allows him fairly liberal freedoms; it’s nice when they want to fade into the scenery and just be together. He sways a bit, eyes glancing over people around them until some tall blonde with unruly curls meets his gaze and licks his bottom lip. Yuri presses up hard against Otabek, who looks from him to the guy eyeballing him, and pulls Yuri to stand in front of him. He braces both hands on the bar, caging Yuri between them.

Yuri has to fight the urge to glare smugly at the blonde over Otabek’s bicep as he leans against his chest. 

It takes a few minutes and Yuri leering at the closest bartender and batting his eyelashes a couple of times before they get served. Yuri ordinarily doesn’t drink much, but he wants to let loose tonight. Thinking about his mother in too much detail tends to make him want to forget, and the conversation with Otabek, while a bit of a relief, still makes him down his drink quickly.

By his fourth drink, he’s feeling pleasantly buzzed and Otabek is loosening up as well. He’s barely moved from his spot behind Yuri, one hand on his belly, fingers splayed and thumb rubbing back and forth over his navel. Yuri leans into his chest, head back against his shoulder, and closes his eyes. The shitty remix thumping away around them is easier to tolerate with Otabek a solid, firm presence at his back.

They’re near the edge of the dance floor, rocking together in a way that Yuri thinks doesn’t match the beat much, but the heat of Otabek’s body against his makes up for it. He’s got his arm up over Otabek’s shoulder and he’s ruffling the hair he’s starting to grow out so he can shave it into a mohawk. It’s still short and fluffy and Yuri’s slightly tipsy brain doesn’t seem capable of allowing him to do anything but run his fingers through it over and over. 

He lets Otabek be in charge of moving them in some semblance of rhythm while he focuses on the drink in his hand and the feel of soft, full lips on his neck. He’s half-hard and a little wet, his whole body warm, shirt starting to stick a little to his chest. Otabek feels like a fucking dream, all hard biceps and defined chest, stubble rubbing his throat raw as his mouth moves, and his cock chubbed up a little where it’s pressing against Yuri’s ass.

He could stay like this forever.

That’s, of course, when someone comes crashing in against his side, almost knocking him off of his feet. Otabek grabs him by his arm and holds him up, but the majority of his drink goes sloshing onto the floor. Yuri regains his balance, ready to punch someone in the head, but then Viktor is there, hauling him into a hug with Otabek’s arm trapped awkwardly in between them.

Viktor is shouting near his ear but it’s lost to the music and the nearly inaudible tone he takes on when he’s drunk. He stands upright and claps Yuri on the shoulders, then his cheeks before turning and leaning heavily on Otabek, who staggers a bit under his weight. 

Yuri snatches Katsuki in by his elbow and shouts against his ear, “I told you, never let him have beer!”

“Have you tried keeping a Russian away from alcohol?” Yuuri yells back, just as exasperated. 

They both stand there a moment, watching Viktor gesture expressively as he talks Otabek’s ear off. Whatever he’s saying, Yuri doubts that Otabek can hear much of it. He keeps patting Otabek’s chest, over his heart, and smiling dopily at him. Otabek shoots him a look that’s half pleading and half promising vengeance if they don’t do something to help him.

He and Katsuki untangle the two of them, although it isn’t much of a task once Viktor realizes that Yuuri is the one touching him; he practically falls on him then, kissing his cheeks and forehead over and over. Katsuki looks like his face is going to melt off, it’s so red. 

Otabek puts his lips to Yuri’s ear to be heard. “He told me I’m a good man, about thirty times.”

Yuri puts on a serious face and pats his chest over his heart, just as Viktor had. Otabek flattens his hand against his chest and pulls him close with an elbow around his neck to kiss him. 

“Mila!” Viktor’s shout is loud enough to be heard over the music.

Otabek pulls back to look at him as Viktor waves both of his arms above his head, his mouth doing that ridiculous heart thing as he smiles like an idiot. Yuri leans around to peer through the crowd. He doesn’t have to look far, because that redheaded harlot is standing on the seat of a booth, waving them over. 

Viktor pulls Yuuri in her direction immediately. Yuri sighs and allows Otabek to lead him more gently. 

“We just saw her earlier,” Yuri points out.

“You can see your friends more than once a day,” Otabek says, his voice rumbling pleasantly against the shell of his ear. 

Yuri rolls his eyes skyward and downs what’s left of his drink. 

Mila is sitting at a booth, on the lap of a guy who is missing a tooth in the front. There are a couple of other guys milling around, leaning against the table with drinks, talking and laughing. All of them are huge and overly loud; the one closest to Yuri has a cut held together with fresh stitches on his cheek and the bright purpling of a new bruise trickling up toward his eye. Yuri fights the urge to retch, just for the sake of it.

Hockey players, he thinks; Mila and her fucking hockey players.

“Yuri!” she cries happily when she sees him. “Otabek!”

Yuri digs in his heels and tugs against the grip Otabek has on him. 

“Beka—“

“Yura.”

Otabek transfers his hold on Yuri’s wrist to his other hand and loops his arm around Yuri’s neck, pulling him in close to kiss his temple.

“She’s your friend and you were rude to her this morning,” Otabek says against his ear, the normally smooth pitch gone rough with the looseness of alcohol.

Yuri lets himself be led because he knows that Otabek is right; not that he’d ever admit it out loud.

Some of the guys at the booth are getting up so Otabek sits down but Yuri resists being pulled in after him, giving him a pleading look. He doesn’t want to get comfortable here. He wants to get another drink and resume the slow, hot grinding they were doing before Viktor interrupted. Otabek slides a hand down his arm and laces their fingers together, getting drawn into conversation with Mila and the idiot she’s perched upon. 

Yuri watches Viktor lavish kiss after kiss on his own Yuuri, holding him close and gesturing wildly with his free hand as he talks, his face as expressive as ever. The guys they’re talking to seem amused by what they’re seeing and Yuri wonders if they know each other. 

“Hey,” says a voice close to his ear. 

Yuri doesn’t jump but it’s a near thing. His eyebrows are already drawn down as he frowns at the guy with the stitches on his cheek. It’s even less appealing up close and Yuri draws back a little at the sight of it. He doesn’t respond verbally or otherwise, but that doesn’t seem to deter the guy any.

“What’s your name?” Yuri looks away, squeezing Otabek’s fingers. “I’m Evgeni.”

Yuri has to fight hard not to roll his eyes. “Good for you.”

Evgeni laughs, low and pleased. Yuri feels fingers brush the back of his arm and he does jump, then. Before he can open his mouth to snap something at this guy, he’s hit with the overwhelmingly powerful smell of _alpha_. He almost lurches forward it’s so strong, so warm and rich, like slipping into a hot bath after a brutal session with Lilia. 

Evgeni laughs again and Yuri realizes then that it’s him. He jerks his arm away and turns, backing up toward Otabek. The nerve of this fucking guy. The grin on his face is confident and cocky and everything Yuri hates about alphas. He looks smug, like he knows how good he smells and he’s ratcheting it up for Yuri.

For a moment he nearly panics, mind reeling over how this alpha had even scented him on his blockers, but then he shifts and feels the slick between his legs and he knows. This other alpha smells how wet Otabek had made him earlier. He wants to cross his legs or something, but there’s nothing he can do to prevent Evgeni from smelling it; he already knows what Yuri has only ever wanted Otabek to scent on him.

Fingers brush his arm again.

“Stop,” Yuri says, jerking his arm away again. He glances down at Otabek, feeling his stress ratchet up another notch because he hasn’t noticed Yuri nearly panicking beside him. He could make a scene of it and tell Otabek what’s happening, but he doesn’t want to draw attention to himself. He can’t, if he wants to keep his secret.

The other alpha leans in close but doesn’t touch him again. “What’s the matter, little one?” And isn’t that just creepy?

“My alpha is right here, I don’t need another one,” Yuri hisses at him. 

Evgeni leans around him to glance down at where Otabek is still engrossed in conversation with Mila and her man of the week. He shakes his hand a little bit but Otabek just rubs his thumb against his knuckle without looking up. Yuri wants to yank at his arm and draw his full attention. He can only imagine that the amount of bodies packed into this place is messing with Otabek’s ability to scent his mounting anxiety, but he still begs silently for him to just _look up at them_.

“Doesn’t look like much,” Evgeni says with a dismissive shrug. “Should let me take you home. Let me get you on all fours in my bed and fuck you until you’re crying for it.” Yuri can’t help the tremor in his free hand, balling it into a fist to keep it from being noticed. The alpha leans even closer. “I can smell how wet you are. Little thing like him can’t give it to you like I could. My knot could fill you up so good; give it to you for hours.” Fingers brush his arm again and Yuri has to lock his knees to keep from fleeing.

“Beka,” Yuri finally manages to choke out, pulling away from the intrusive alpha. Otabek looks up at him and Yuri cups his cheek with his free hand and kisses him quickly. “Getting a drink,” Yuri half-shouts into Otabek’s ear.

Otabek tightens his grip on his hand with a look of confusion, nostrils flaring as he scents the air. Before he can respond, Yuri shakes him off and pushes into the throng of bodies around them, desperate to flee the situation.

He squeezes his way up to the bar, between a guy with his back to him and a girl he’s fairly certain is being fingered by the guy standing next to her. Yuri focuses hard on trying to get the bartender’s attention and nothing else. The minutes begin to tick by, and Yuri is weighing the options of either cranking up the omega scent at his disposal or just calling it good on drinking tonight. He’s too shaky to really consider it, though. His knees feel like jelly and his stomach is still twisting unpleasantly; another drink might be a bad idea after all.

Just then, someone presses against his back, and Yuri knows instantly that it isn’t Otabek. It isn’t the scent or the feel of the body, just an instinctual blanching in his gut that tells him _no_ immediately. 

A hand settles on his hip and Evgeni leans his other arm on the bar, effectively caging Yuri in there, grinning at him, casually as he pleases. 

“You’re not gonna get that hand back,” Yuri says through gritted teeth, digging down deep for his anger toward this asshole, to push aside his discomfort. 

“Let me get that drink for you,” Evgeni offers with a smile that stretches the stitches on his cheek

“Hand,” Yuri deadpans. The alpha leans closer, like he hasn’t heard him clearly, and slides his fingers under Yuri’s shirt to palm at his stomach. “Fuck you!” Yuri spits, shoving at him so hard he goes tumbling back against the guy beside him; he loses his balance and lands on his knees on the sticky floor.

Everything erupts into commotion all at once. Everyone starts shouting and someone yanks Yuri to his feet and he staggers back a couple of steps along with them; he’s ready to start fighting when he realizes that it’s Katsuki. Then he’s frozen in place, watching as Otabek scuffles with the other alpha, shoving him back against the bar. More than one of Mila’s hockey player friends has joined in, and Viktor is instantly there to pull one off. 

Where the fuck security is, Yuri has no idea. All he sees is Otabek about to get his head caved in by a guy a hell of a lot taller and bigger than he is. He jerks out of Yuuri’s grasp and shoves his way up next to Otabek and the other alpha, and suddenly the grip they have on each other loosens; they both turn to look at him, slightly slackjawed and a little bit dazed around the eyes. Otabek blinks and it’s gone, a hand on his chest, ready to push him back, but Yuri squirms his way forward until he’s between the two of them. It’s his scent, he realizes, forcing these two to stop and notice him, and he exploits it mercilessly.

So close up, Yuri can smell the other alpha’s scent, uncertain and wild and not at all like Otabek. Not strong and soft and _safe_ , like Otabek. He smells good but so far from right that Yuri would shudder in any other situation. He steps back into Otabek’s chest and forces him to move. Evgeni watches as Yuri backs Otabek up away from him without a word spoken from any of them. Evgeni stares at him, following his every step. Yuri wants to look away but he doesn’t. 

A cluster of security guards picks that moment to show up, when everything is more or less under control. Viktor and Otabek both get grabbed and yanked away. The alpha against the bar and the guy Viktor had yanked off of Otabek are pulled off behind them. Yuri dodges one who tries to touch him and darts after Otabek, Katsuki right behind him. He hears Mila shouting his name but he doesn’t stop, shoving his way toward the exit where Otabek and Viktor are being forcefully led. 

The guard holding Otabek shoves him out the door, yelling at him all the while, telling him not to come back. Viktor stumbles, barely managing to avoid tumbling into the street.

Yuri bursts out after them, ignoring the security guard shouting at him, now. Otabek looks absolutely mutinous until he sees Yuri. In scarcely a blink Otabek is in front of him, touching him, leaning in to rub his head against Yuri’s like an overgrown cat. 

He’s being scented, he realizes. For the first time in his life, he’s being legitimately scented by an alpha. It’s a total hindbrain reaction and Yuri vaguely feels like he should be a little embarrassed because this is not something an alpha would do to a beta. This is private and personal and Yuri has to put a hand up and push him away; he doesn’t want anyone to be privy to this interaction between them. 

Otabek looks a little dazed, like he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. Now, though, he just pulls Yuri in with his hands on his neck and kisses him soundly. Yuri tastes blood.

A throat being cleared from beside them has them breaking apart, not giving Yuri a moment to examine the split in Otabek’s lip that he’d managed to overlook before. His blood is boiling already.

Viktor is standing next to them with his arms folded against his chest, looking tired and like he’s holding himself back from something. 

“Take him home,” he says, directing it at Yuri. His eyes flick to Otabek’s even as he reaches down to take Yuuri’s hand. “You and I need to talk later.” It’s not a suggestion or an offer, and Otabek straightens beside him, unconsciously trying to make himself bigger. Viktor isn’t posturing or posing a challenge, though; he turns and leads his Yuuri away without further comment. 

Otabek spits blood onto the sidewalk while he orders an uber, pointedly not looking at Yuri all of a sudden. The smell of sweat and booze is strong on his skin, but beneath that Yuri can smell arousal, fresh and not lingering. He narrows his eyes and watches Otabek stare down the street, still not looking at him as he tosses an arm around Yuri’s shoulders to pull him closer. 

The ride back is silent in a terse way that has Yuri angling himself away from Otabek in the seat. Otabek doesn’t try to touch him and Yuri keeps his hands to himself. The car has barely come to a stop when Yuri gets out, not waiting for Otabek to follow as he heads inside. The feeling building in his gut tells him to get to familiar territory, someplace where their mingled scents have sunken into the space around them. The prickle on the back of his neck tells him he is prey being stalked. The thrill of it makes his hands shake. 

Yuri holds onto the back of the couch as he toes out of his shoes, listening as Otabek locks the door behind himself. The apartment is silent after Yuri goes still; the cats must be napping somewhere, and Otabek himself doesn’t move. Yuri doesn’t turn around, keeping his back to Otabek and keeping himself vulnerable.

“Did he touch you?” Otabek finally asks, his voice quiet.

“You saw him.”

“I saw him put his hand on your side and I got up. By the time I got over there, you were shoving him and falling on the ground.” Otabek’s voice gets increasingly more desperate and rough with every word. It also gets closer. 

Yuri’s arms prickle with goosebumps. “Only what you saw. And my arm, earlier.”

Otabek puts his hands on Yuri’s hips. They’re so big and warm and _right_ that his whole body shudders with it and he closes his eyes. Otabek presses his nose to the sensitive, soft indent behind his ear and inhales deeply. Yuri goes slick between his legs again and Otabek lets out a low sound of want when he smells it, fingers tightening on his sides.

“For me,” he rasps. Yuri nods, reaching back to cup the back of his head, just like he had at the club. Otabek pushes closer, the hard line of his cock pressing against his ass. Yuri moans quietly, tightening his fingers in Otabek’s hair.

“No one else,” he murmurs, turning his head for a kiss.

Their lips barely brush together before Otabek is spinning him around and pulling him in crushingly tight. Yuri’s lips ache with the force of the kiss he’s given and he tastes blood from Otabek’s mouth. He tongues hard at the split in his lip, listening to him moan, loud and shaky. Hands yank at his shirt, pulling it up and off, setting his hair on end, and he pulls Otabek’s off in return. They come together over and over, kissing wild and fast, yanking at each other’s jeans and boxers, stripping down with a frenzy that the touch of bare skin only seems to ratchet up.

Otabek takes him down to the floor, pulling his jeans off and shoving his own away. Yuri tugs him down again, kissing him over and over as Otabek lies between his thighs and rubs their bare cocks together. Yuri’s so wet that it’s running down his ass onto the hardwood under him, his cock throbbing where it’s trapped between their stomachs, rubbing against Otabek’s and he sobs into his mouth. He wants Otabek to fuck him. He wants it so badly that he’s shaking with it, lifting his thighs around Otabek’s hips and locking his ankles together at the small of his back.

“Fuck me. Beka—please. Please,” he gasps, begging against Otabek’s swollen lips.

The responding groan is wilder than anything he’s ever heard from Otabek before. A hand lands on his hip and pins him painfully against the floor. He arches up under it, wanting more, wanting Otabek to hold him down, grab his wrists and spread him out, fuck into him with his cock, so fat and hard against his own. He’s practically shaking with the desire for it all. 

Otabek kisses him again, lighter, then lets their lips rest together as they breathe. The frenzy in his belly hasn’t calmed at all, and the way Otabek’s hips are still grinding against his own tells him that nothing is settling for Otabek either.

He cards his fingers through Otabek’s sweaty hair. “Will you?” he practically croaks. “Can we?”

“Yuri,” Otabek rasps, nudging his head aside to suck at his pulse, hammering against the side of his throat. He latches on with his mouth and sucks hard, not moving away, but bruising him, he’s sure of it; Yuri can feel the pulse of precome that his slit opens around.

“Please,” Yuri sobs, rubbing himself against Otabek’s cock, pulling at his hair. He’s so, so wet, his hole clenching around nothing. He doesn’t know what else to do, how else to make Otabek realize how badly he needs this. Tears of frustration well in his eyes.

Otabek clambers off of him abruptly, leaving him sprawled on the floor and shaking with his need. He grabs for him but Otabek pushes his hands away.

“ _Beka_.” He’s going to cry.

Otabek shushes him, getting quickly and shakily to his feet. Yuri takes his hands and allows himself to be pulled up and then quickly bent over the arm of the couch. It stretches his back and leaves him straining for purchase with his toes. He doesn’t like it. If they’re going to fuck, he wants to be on his back; he wants to be able to see Otabek, to kiss him and cling to him and watch as he comes apart when he knots inside of him. 

“Can I turn over?” he asks, holding himself up on his elbows. Otabek runs his hands over Yuri’s ass, down to his thighs. “Please. Beka, let me turn over.”

Otabek shushes him again. “Trust me, Yura,” he murmurs. “I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

Yuri clenches his eyes, fisting both of his hands against the cushion. If this is how Otabek wants him, he’ll make it good. He knows he will. The hot, hard press of Otabek’s cock against the inside of his thigh makes him shudder. Yuri is so wet for him and he just wants him _inside_ ; he’ll like this any way Otabek wants to give it to him. 

Otabek widens his stance and pushes at Yuri’s thighs until he closes them around his cock. Otabek lets out a breath in a shaky rush.

“Can I just—like this?” He’s breathing heavy and his hands are sweaty where they curl around Yuri’s hips. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to. I won’t be angry.”

Yuri presses his forehead against the couch cushion and lets out a shaky breath of his own, laughing a bit at the end. “We could fuck,” he offers.

“I want to but not like this. Not riled up over someone else. I want you thinking about nothing else but us. But me.” Otabek’s hands gentle over his sides, up his ribs and back down again, stroking him slowly, carefully.

Yuri turns his head, setting his cheek against the cushion, looking back at Otabek with a smile turning up the corner of his mouth. 

“I want that too.”

“And this?” Otabek asks, rocking his hips a bit, sliding effortlessly in the slick that’s still leaking out of Yuri and down his thighs. He can feel Otabek’s knot already swelling up.

Yuri nods. Otabek starts to thrust, holding him with one hand on his hip and the other around his shoulder. Yuri keeps his thighs pressed together tightly and holds himself still. Every thrust from Otabek has the head of his cock nudging his balls, forcing increasingly desperate sounds from him as he braces himself for each rock of his hips. His toes spread against the floor, slipping as Otabek shoves down harder between his thighs.

“Yuri,” Otabek breathes suddenly. His knot starts to swell rapidly, his thrusts going hard and erratic. “Can you—tighter, please?” he gasps, fingers digging into Yuri’s hips as he leans over him.

Yuri clenches his thighs together as tightly as he can, hooking his ankles together, losing contact with the floor as Otabek’s body jolts his own. He can’t believe how big it is, how hard, how badly he wants it _in_ him. He has to clench his eyes and grind his teeth against the hot surge of want through his belly as Otabek starts to come. Yuri is already wet from his own arousal and his cock leaking against his belly, and Otabek comes and comes, crying out repeatedly as he soaks Yuri’s balls, the side of the couch, and the floor. Yuri’s toes slide in it, there’s so much. He thinks about this happening inside of him, listening to Otabek’s hoarse pants and feeling the shaking of his fingers; he shoves his hand down and fists his cock until he’s coming. Otabek whines as Yuri’s own orgasm causes his thighs to spasm around his knot.

Yuri floats, losing himself in the thick smells of the two of them tangled up tightly with one another, their come (so much of it all over the both of them), Yuri’s slick. The feel of Otabek’s knot swollen hard, pressing against his tender hole, still aching for more, makes his own cock twitch again. He comes down slowly, his throat raw from panting and his chest aching. Otabek’s hips jerk a few times, still coming in an increasingly weaker trickle down his legs. 

He fights to keep his thighs tight for Otabek but he’s quickly losing his strength, his whole body starting to shake with it. 

“Beka?” he asks when Otabek has gone still. His knot is still swollen, pressing against Yuri’s hole, and he’s breathing hotly over Yuri’s spine, forehead sweaty on his shoulder blade.

“Yeah?” Otabek asks, voice raspy and quiet.

Yuri shudders and turns to look at him as best he can. “You all right?”

Otabek huffs a laugh and straightens up, hands moving to rest on Yuri’s hips again. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m good,” Yuri says, squeezing his thighs again, listening to Otabek’s responding moan and feeling the unsteady jerk of his hips. 

“Stop that or it’ll never go down,” Otabek says, smacking lightly at his hip.

Yuri smiles back at him, feeling sleepy and sated and disgustingly wet absolutely everywhere. It’s a long few minutes after Otabek backs up and helps Yuri stand. His back aches and his entire body is pleasantly sore. Otabek looks worried, touching his face and kissing him softly as he guides them into the bathroom, his knot still swollen but clearly waning. 

“I’m gonna go clean up,” he says, turning on the hot water for Yuri. 

“Leave it,” Yuri says, holding onto his hand as he tries to pull away. “Shower with me.”

Otabek hesitates before kissing Yuri again, soft and easy. “One second. It’s—the cats…”

Yuri pulls a face. “Fine, fine. But hurry.”

The minutes creep by as Yuri lazily washes himself, basking in the heat and water pressure. He’s never loved a shower so much in his life as he does this one. Otabek finally returns, cock soft and knot all but deflated. He still has that haunted look about his eyes; Yuri pulls him close after he ducks to wet his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” Yuri asks.

Otabek shakes his head, pushing his hair back off of his forehead. The split in his lip is beading blood again. “Was that all right? You wanted to turn over and I—“

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” Yuri says, cutting him off. He turns to grab his shampoo and squeezes some into his palm; he lathers Otabek’s hair as he continues. “I wanted that, out there. I like your knot, I like feeling you rub against me. How much you come for me.”

Otabek’s cheeks are a little red when he rinses his hair out. Yuri meets his dark eyes evenly.

“I don’t want to do something you don’t like.”

“You never have,” Yuri assures him, sliding his arms over Otabek’s shoulders and drawing him close to kiss him. “Trust me, I’ll let you know.”

Otabek lets their foreheads rest together, fingers slick at the small of his back. Yuri can hear him swallow. 

“That guy—that whole thing just… sent me over the edge. When he touched you, all I wanted to do was protect you.” He laughs, something harsh and self-deprecating. “It’s pathetic how fast I lost control of it. I’m terrible at being an alpha.”

Yuri scratches his fingers over the bits of Otabek’s hair that’s still buzzed close to his head. “I think you’re better than you know. Your instinct is to protect. Others just…” Yuri trails off, shaking his head a bit and taking a breath to steady himself. “I’m just something to fuck, for others. I wouldn’t want you any other way. Believe me.”

Otabek lets out a quiet sound and kisses him. “I do.” Then, when Yuri turns to get his body wash, he asks, “You’re sure I didn’t… push you into that?”

Yuri gives a moment of thought to his response; he needs Otabek to trust him to know what he wants. “Beka,” he says quietly, looking down at the lather on his hands, rushing away under the water, “no matter how much I…” he clears his throat and licks his bottom lip before looking up to meet Otabek’s soft gaze, “no matter how much I love you, I won’t let you hurt me.”

Otabek doesn’t move more than to blink for a moment. Yuri has just enough time to feel his stomach twist with panic, to hear the voice in his head hiss _too soon, too soon, he doesn’t feel that way yet_. Then Otabek is turning him with gentle hands and tipping his head up to kiss him, softly, wonderfully. 

He kisses Yuri’s lips gently once, twice, then a third time, before he leans back enough that they can see one another properly. His eyes look damp as his thumbs brush Yuri’s cheeks, and the knot forming in his stomach unwinds easily and immediately. He knows it before Otabek says the words that it’s true, it’s real, he’s in love and Otabek feels the same.

He closes his eyes.

“I love you,” Otabek practically whispers, his voice cracking, just this side of desperate. “I think I always have.”

Yuri draws him close with his arms around his shoulders and buries his face in Otabek’s neck. He can smell his own scent, how blissed out and sweet it is. And he can smell Otabek, relieved and safe. He doesn’t know how or why he has this, but he’s so, so grateful that he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am having a truly awful day. Please leave me a little love to cheer me up.


	4. Chapter 4

Surprisingly, Otabek wakes up alone. Yuri is the furthest thing from a morning person he’s ever met; in all the time that they’ve been close enough to share a bed, not once has Yuri been awake before him. He rolls onto his side and looks at the clock, blinking in the relative darkness of the room. It’s just after seven in the morning and their alarm isn’t even set today. 

Otabek drops back against his pillow with a huff and waits. It doesn’t take long before Yuri comes in from the hallway, closing the door behind himself, phone still lit up in his hand. 

“What are you doing up?” Otabek asks, fighting down a smile when Yuri jumps and curses at him rather creatively.

“My Grandpa called and I didn’t want to wake you up. You’re welcome,” Yuri grumbles, climbing back up on the bed.

Otabek tries to draw him close to kiss his cheek but Yuri groans and shoves at his chest. “Go brush your teeth first.”

He knows it’s his own words being thrown back at him but it still makes his eyes roll. They don’t have anywhere to be today and Otabek fully plans to spend the morning in bed. 

“Seriously,” Yuri urges, pushing at him until Otabek gives up and tosses the covers aside. The things he does for this boy. The bathroom tile is chilly and he’s ready to dive back into bed and put his cold toes on Yuri’s skinny legs by the time he’s finished.

However, Yuri derails that plan almost immediately. The room bears the thick, sticky scent of Yuri’s slick, so strong it’s nearly overwhelming enough to have him stumbling over his own feet. 

“Yura?” he asks, eyes coming to rest involuntarily at the hand Yuri has fisted over the hard line of his cock in his boxer-briefs. He watches as Yuri tips his legs open further and brings his other hand down to rub at the growing wet patch further back, hand still moving over his dick. Otabek is drawn to the bed without a thought, his legs starting to shake.

Yuri lifts the hand rubbing at the damp fabric to Otabek’s mouth and Otabek takes hold of his wrist, sucking at his fingers. The taste is sweet and tempting and not nearly enough. Yuri turns his fingers down, hooking them over his teeth, and pulls him closer. Otabek goes willingly, climbing onto the bed and between Yuri’s legs, letting himself be guided. Yuri lets go and settles both hands on his cheeks before pulling him into a kiss.

This is it, Otabek knows with absolute certainty. This is the moment that Yuri has chosen for them and Otabek is so, so ready for it. He sinks down until he’s resting his full weight on Yuri’s body, and kisses him deep and wet until Yuri is grinding insistently up against him. Otabek braces his knees against the rucked up sheets and rolls his hips downward, making Yuri gasp into his mouth and pull painfully at his ears. He has to pry Yuri’s fingers free and press his hands down against the pillow on either side of his head.

“Please,” Yuri breathes when they part, still pressing the hard line of his cock against Otabek’s. “Can we?”

Otabek takes a moment to breathe before he nods, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat. “Yes,” he rasps, squeezing their fingers together. Then, “You’re sure?” because they can’t continue unless he knows that Yuri is absolutely certain.

“Yes, Beka, jesus, what else do I have to do?” Yuri asks, voice cracking halfway through. “What do you need me to _do_? I’m _ready_ , I’m ready—“

“Okay,” Otabek murmurs against his lips. He lets go of his hands and cups the sides of Yuri’s neck, letting his thumbs rest against the edges of his jaw. “I just—I need you to be certain.”

“I _am_.”

Otabek inhales deeply, taking in the desperation and desire in Yuri’s scent, the sheer want in the amount of slick soaking through his boxers The feel of his cock against his belly, the dig of his nails in his forearms, the pleading tone in his voice… all of it is melting together to drive Otabek absolutely mad.

He kisses Yuri again and gets to his knees, pulling Yuri’s t-shirt up over his head. Otabek didn’t wear one last night, because sleeping with Yuri usually makes him overheat, so once Yuri has his hands free again they’re running down his stomach. He fights a shiver at the feeling of Yuri’s nails scratching over his abs and through the hair on his belly. He’s so hard that he’s tenting his sweats out obscenely. Then Yuri’s pulling them down and his cock is springing free to bob out ridiculously in front of him.

Heat rises in his cheeks but then Yuri is moaning and fisting his cock with both hands, touching at the head with careful fingers, spreading his precome around, until Otabek’s entire body is shaking. He grabs Yuri’s hands by the wrists and stills them. 

“We’re not even going to make it if you don’t stop that.”

Yuri laughs breathily at him but tugs his hands free and holds them palms up, looking the picture of innocence. Otabek gives him a skeptical look but backs up further until he’s able to get to his feet beside the bed and shrug his sweats off the rest of the way. Yuri divests himself of his boxers before Otabek can get back on the bed to help him. 

The sight of Yuri naked and hard and willing underneath him isn’t exactly new, at this point, but it’s still the most amazing thing Otabek has ever laid his eyes on. Yuri is small and thin and absolutely gorgeous; he’s everything that the alpha part of Otabek craves. Setting that aside, Yuri is absolutely everything that Otabek _wants_. He’d never in his life dreamed he could be so lucky. 

Yuri settles his legs on either side of Otabek’s hips, keeping his knees spread wide, totally unashamed of his need. The smell of his slick is so thick in the air that it’s almost tangible, he thinks he can actually taste it. Two of his fingers sink into Yuri’s hole without preamble, making him choke on his own breath and arch so hard that Otabek has to hold him down with his free hand. 

He wastes no time setting a hard rhythm, fucking his fingers in and out, coating them with the wetness leaking from Yuri’s hole. The sound of his fingers sliding through Yuri’s slick, coupled with his panting breaths and heaving chest, makes Otabek’s cock jerk, instantly on edge again. 

“Beka,” Yuri gasps, hands fisted in his pillow and head turned to the side, eyes closed. “Beka, oh… Fuck. Please.”

“Feel good?” Otabek asks. Yuri nods, hair sticking to his damp forehead. “You want to come like this?”

Yuri’s response is no more than a shaky inhale and a whimpering exhale, so Otabek slows his hand. Yuri whines then.

“Yuri,” Otabek prompts, stilling his fingers. “You want to come like this?”

Yuri draws the back of his shaking hand across his forehead, messing his already tangled hair even further. He blinks his hazy eyes a few times before he shakes his head. 

“I want you in me.”

Otabek’s fingers slip free and Yuri bites his lips as his hips jerk upward. It’s only now, as he’s settling himself into position between Yuri’s thighs, that he realizes they’ve neglected to have a very serious conversation. They’d had some version of it, back in Moscow, when Yuri’s likelihood of fertility had been assessed at close to non-existent, but it’s not the same thing. Yuri had passed on any sort of birth control, since it didn’t seem to serve much of a purpose with the medical opinion he’d received. Otabek goes still over him, one hand on his cock, the other holding himself up.

Yuri’s fingers slide into his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “What?” he asks, staring up at him expectantly. “What’s wrong?

Otabek licks his lips. “Did you… We never talked about birth control.”

Yuri stares at him for a moment before he actually huffs a laugh. “Beka,” he says, shaking his head, “I hardly think that’s necessary.”

“Still… I can pull out.”

“ _No_ ,” Yuri says more than a little urgently, winding his arms around Otabek’s shoulders. “I want you to knot me. You want to, right?”

The arm that Otabek’s holding himself up on shakes harder. “Yes,” he admits. 

“Then we’ve talked about it,” Yuri says, reaching down with one hand to wrap around Otabek’s cock; he pulls and Otabek’s hips jerk, following the movement as he’s drawn in. “Now fuck me,” Yuri murmurs against his lips before kissing him.

Otabek pushes forward blindly, releasing his hold on himself to spread the wet skin of Yuri’s hole and letting Yuri guide his cock into place. He sinks in carefully, both of them spreading slick over his cock and holding one another steady to ease the way. The sounds of their gasps and Yuri’s fingers clawing into his skin, and the overwhelmingly amazing feeling of actually being inside of Yuri, combine to make the base of his cock throb with the sensation of his knot threatening to swell already.

It’s markedly easier to hold himself still, once his hips are snug up against Yuri’s ass, than he’d ever thought it would be. It feels better than anything that Otabek has ever experienced before. Yuri is hot and wet and loose in his arousal, clinging tightly to him with his arms and his legs, panting and gasping against his ear, his hole clenching up as his body shakes. It feels so fucking good and it smells even better. Yuri’s scent is potent, thick and sweetly overpowering. He thinks if he ever told Yuri that he smells _sweet_ that Yuri would glare at him with some deadpan expression, but Yuri’s biology is doing everything it can right now to entice Otabek. He always smells appealing but right now he smells inviting, and desperate, and fertile.

That’s what the sweetness filling his head right now is: the illusion of Yuri’s fertility. Otabek knows it’s just a biological response to having an alpha inside of him right now, the same way he knows that his desire to breed Yuri is one too, but that doesn’t make him want it any less.

He nuzzles in against Yuri’s cheek, lips scraping over smooth skin as he makes his way to his mouth. Yuri lets out a quiet sigh when his lips part. His arms are sticking to the sweat already forming on Otabek’s shoulders and his fingers scratch pleasantly at his scalp as they trade breathy, wet kisses. Otabek thinks he could die like this and not regret a thing.

“Feels so good,” Yuri whispers into his mouth. “Can you move?”

Otabek nods, his throat tight. “Yes,” he gasps, kissing at Yuri’s lips as he pushes himself up to his elbows. 

Yuri holds on tightly, one arm still around his shoulders, not letting him move too far away, and the other hand clamped around his bicep. Otabek draws back and pushes in, harder than he intends, but Yuri just tips his head into the pillow and groans, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Yes,” he breathes.

Otabek repeats the motion, only pulling back a couple of inches before snapping his hips and pushing his cock in deep. Yuri holds on tightly, his heels dug into the backs of Otabek’s thighs, urging him back in every time he pulls out. He gasps and pants and moans Otabek’s name over and over until Otabek is pulling almost the entire way out on every thrust before shoving back in. 

Yuri leaks slick profusely and it makes everything sound absolutely obscene, sending goosebumps crawling over Otabek’s body. His cries are hoarse and loud in his ear when Otabek finds his prostate. It’s absolutely thrilling and intimate and so much better than anything that Otabek has ever experienced with anyone else, limited as that may be. He never wants anyone but Yuri again.

Once the base of his cock starts to swell, his control over it erodes rapidly. 

“Fuck, Yuri,” he gasps, already feeling the pull at his hole. He tries to slow himself down but Yuri shakes his head as he reaches down to grab Otabek’s ass with both hands, tugging him forward.

“No, no, no,” he whines, breath hot against Otabek’s cheek.

“I’ll come,” Otabek groans, his entire body starting to shake. He curls his fingers in the sheets until his knuckles ache; he’d hoped he’d last longer. “I’m almost—I’m gonna knot.”

“I want you to,” Yuri rasps, digging his nails into Otabek’s skin, making him jolt forward; his knot throbs in time with his heartbeat where it’s swelling up. “In me, Beka.”

Otabek bends to press his face into Yuri’s neck, clenching his eyes shut, letting out a noise that sounds terribly close to a sob. He can’t believe this is happening, that the two of them have gotten here, that he’s lucky enough to have fallen in love with Yuri and had him fall back. Yuri’s fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close, in a reversal of their secondary gender roles that Otabek thinks he should be embarrassed about, but isn’t. 

He lifts his head to kiss Yuri, thrusting hard and fast, eating the cries right out of his mouth as he lets go and allows his knot to swell. Within moments they’re locked together too tightly for Otabek to move and then he’s coming so hard that it bows his back and chokes the breath from him. It’s physically painful, how hard it wracks him, pulling at his knot and seizing his muscles, but it feels so fucking _good_. The euphoria of coming inside of Yuri, of _knotting _him, of being both physically and emotionally closer with him than anyone ever has, is almost enough to cause him to black out. It’s so much better than anything he’s ever felt before.__

__He holds on, gritting his teeth as he pants, body wracked with spasms; every breath he pulls in draws the overpowering scent of Yuri’s heightened arousal and the sharp, mouthwatering smell of faux fertility his body is producing in. It goes on and on, making his hips grind forward to push himself deep, until he’s whimpering at the overstimulation of his own drawn-out orgasm._ _

__Yuri murmurs to him urgently but Otabek can barely hear him, let alone make out what he’s saying, as if he’s hearing it through water. He’s aware of Yuri coming, feeling it spatter on his stomach and the bitter, thick smell of it between them. His hips jerk at the spasms of Yuri’s stretched hole around his knot, making him whine and dig his nails into Otabek’s biceps again._ _

__It takes a long time to find his senses again, let alone regain control of them. His first thought is that he regrets it not being his hand to make Yuri come, and his second is that Yuri is kneading at his back like a pleased cat. There’s a sound suspiciously like a hum emitting from his chest when Otabek opens his eyes again. They’re still tied on Otabek’s knot, and now their bellies are sticking together with Yuri’s come._ _

__The smell of it all is probably objectively disgusting but Otabek breathes it in, nuzzling his way up Yuri’s throat to mouth at his jaw; he can’t get enough. It wrings another painful pulse of come from him, grinding his hips forward until Yuri groans._ _

__“Are you all right?” Otabek asks, pushing himself up on his elbows. He hadn’t realized he’s been resting his full weight on Yuri’s considerably smaller body and he tries to support himself again. Yuri shifts, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, not letting him go far. Not that he would, even if he was physically capable of it._ _

__Yuri nods, eyes shut, looking blissful with his flushed cheeks and bitten-raw lips._ _

__“Feels good,” he murmurs, voice quiet and hoarse._ _

__“Did I hurt you?”_ _

__Yuri shakes his head, sticking more of his tangled hair to his sweaty cheeks. “No. It feels…” Yuri draws his perfectly straight top teeth over his bottom lip before going quiet and still again._ _

__“Yura?” Otabek asks, bringing his hands up to push Yuri’s hair back. His eyes flutter open, pupils blown out, almost eclipsing the color of his irises entirely. He takes a breath like he’s going to say something but lets his eyes fall shut again._ _

__Otabek’s heart rate picks up, suddenly concerned. Nothing he’d read or been told about knotting someone for the first time had mentioned that his partner might react this way. He’s not sure if this is normal, if this is just Yuri blissed out on his first time, or a typical omega reaction to being knotted, or if he’s actually hurt Yuri and this is something he should be concerned about._ _

__“Yurochka,” he says, putting a bit of persuasion into it, “open your eyes for me.” Yuri does without hesitation, making Otabek feel a clench of guilt in his belly. “Are you all right?”_ _

__Yuri nods, his eyebrows bunching together. “Yes,” he says, his vision starting to clear a little, “are you?”_ _

__Otabek swallows and nods, fingers still stroking at Yuri’s cheeks. “I’m… so good,” he says, unable to keep the smile off of his face and out of his voice. “It’s so good. You feel perfect.”_ _

__Yuri’s expression turns smug as he resituates his legs where they’re hooked around Otabek’s thighs. He gives his head a toss against the pillow, like he’s flicking his hair back. “Told you it would be amazing. I feel amazing.”_ _

__“You sound like you’re drunk.” Yuri flicks him hard on the nose. “Ow.”_ _

__His eyes are a little vacant again, like he’s fighting the pull of something that Otabek’s nerves are keeping at bay._ _

__“I think we bonded,” he says, voice barely above a whisper._ _

__The words freeze Otabek before his arms break out in goosebumps. Before Yuri, Otabek had never really considered bonding because the closest he’s ever really come to a relationship had been the time he’d spent fucking around with Maxim, and that was nothing like this. He’s considered it, of course he has, he doesn’t know anyone who hasn’t wanted to bond at some point, but he and Yuri haven’t talked about it. It takes more than just sex, more than just a frenzy of orgasms, but deep commitment on both of their parts, a desire for _always_ and, now that he’s thinking about it, it seems obvious. The combined pleasure of his orgasm and the hormones released from a successful bond would account for the drugged-like state Yuri seems to be in._ _

__Otabek’s anxiety over knotting Yuri for the first time and thinking he’s possibly hurt him from it has effectively killed the same, ensuing reaction. But he’s pleased, now that he’s aware of it._ _

__“Is it okay?” he asks._ _

__Yuri cracks his eyes open and frowns at him, mouth pulling down; he lifts his hand again and Otabek folds their fingers together and kisses his knuckles._ _

__“Don’t ask stupid questions when your dick’s still in me; you’re ruining the afterglow.” Otabek peppers increasingly sloppy kisses all over his face until Yuri is laughing and swatting at him. “Beka!”_ _

__Otabek kisses him but Yuri’s grinning so it’s mostly his lips pressed against Yuri’s teeth. Still, it’s nice. All of it eclipses what he’d ever thought this moment could be like. He holds Yuri close and kisses him until Yuri stops smiling and kisses him back, rubbing at his scalp with his fingers._ _

__Despite having seen and touched Otabek’s knot a few times over the past couple of weeks, when the kiss breaks, he still asks, “how long are we going to be tied?”_ _

__Otabek bites his nose._ _

__

__\--_ _

__

__When Otabek’s knot finally deflates enough for him to pull out, it’s nearly fifteen minutes later, the longest it’s ever lasted. He eases himself out, hyper aware of how Yuri bites back a groan at the tug on his stretched hole. Otabek sits back on his heels, hands on Yuri’s spread knees, and just takes a moment to look at him; he’s absolutely wrecked, hair twisted and clumped with sweat, his belly covered in his own tacky, drying come, thighs and ass wet with his own slick, and Otabek’s come starting to leak steadily from his slightly gaping hole._ _

__Yuri lifts the arm he has flung over his eyes. “Admiring your work?”_ _

__Otabek flushes hotly, closing his mouth so his lips are pressed together in a thin line. Yuri’s mouth quirks in a smug, little grin before he drapes his arm over his eyes again._ _

__“Can we take a bath?” he asks, though he must know full well that Otabek would do anything for him, especially now._ _

__Otabek squeezes his thighs, feeling the fatigued muscles jump under his hands, and gets up off the bed. His knees don’t buckle, but his legs shake hard enough to be noticeable. Yuri is still lying sprawled on the bed, looking the picture of contently debauched._ _

__Otabek draws a hot bath and turns on the shower as well, before he goes back into the bedroom. Yuri pushes himself up onto his elbows when he hears Otabek come back in and purses his lips a moment._ _

__“Carry me?”_ _

__The request in itself is surprising, but his alpha instincts go from relaxed and satiated to preening with the notion that his omega needs him. He quashes it down resolutely before he nods._ _

__“Of course,” is all he says._ _

__Yuri holds out his arms and allows himself to be lifted from their ruined sheets. He weighs next to nothing, but the press of his body, the scent of his contentment, the smell of Otabek all over him, makes him feel like he’s conquered the world._ _

__He sets Yuri on his feet next to the open shower door, but Yuri doesn’t let go of his neck, not taking his own weight and forcing Otabek to hold him upright._ _

__“I said a bath,” he gripes._ _

__Otabek can smell the come starting to run down his legs. The back of his neck heats._ _

__“You should shower first. You don’t want to get in the bathtub like this.”_ _

__Yuri heaves an unhappy sigh against his neck, but allows Otabek to guide him into the shower. Otabek follows him, because Yuri’s legs are still visibly shaking; he winds an arm around his waist and lets Yuri slump against his chest while the water rushes down his back._ _

__“Now what?”_ _

__Otabek hesitates. “It’s ahh… you should—“ he clears his throat and reminds himself that he’s an adult. “Bear down.”_ _

__Yuri must understand because he goes still in Otabek’s grip and then his stomach tenses. “Beka, fuck,” he practically snaps. “I can’t believe you come so much.”_ _

__He can smell the rush of his own come down Yuri’s thighs, even though it’s diluted from the water. He reaches around with his free hand to spread Yuri’s cheeks and Yuri smacks at him._ _

__“Don’t,” he groans, “it’s embarrassing.”_ _

__“It’s not,” Otabek insists as Yuri switches to gripping at his biceps instead._ _

__Yuri rubs his wet forehead against Otabek’s sternum. “How do you come so much?”_ _

__Otabek resists the urge to point out that he’s come on Yuri multiple times and that he’s always seemed to like it when it’s happening. He nudges at Yuri’s head until he can kiss his temple. Yuri doesn’t object to Otabek’s touch, leaning up to nuzzle against his cheek._ _

__When the flow of come slows enough that Otabek can no longer smell it, he turns off the shower and scoops Yuri up without waiting to be asked. Yuri yelps and grips at his slippery shoulders with an unimpressed look. He doesn’t complain as he’s lowered into the bathtub, sinking into the water until just his head is visible; Otabek follows, getting in on the other side and moving around until their legs are touching but not jabbing into each other’s._ _

__They’re both silent for a long time as they relax. Yuri keeps his eyes closed, looking serene as the ends of his hair float around his chin. Otabek takes one of his feet in both hands and kneads the sole carefully, making Yuri moan appreciatively and sink down until his mouth is covered too._ _

__Otabek smiles to himself, rubbing gently with his thumbs, painfully aware of the bruises he’s currently nursing and the bone spur on the top, right side of his foot. Two of Yuri’s toes are crooked enough to be noticeable and he touches them both softly. Yuri still jerks at the contact, as if he’s anticipating pain._ _

__Otabek switches to his other foot and starts his work all over again. Yuri relaxes in millimeters, closing his eyes again and drifting in the water until he’s sunken so low, his nose is barely above the surface. That’s when Otabek stills his hands and sits upright, the skin of his back prickling with cold at being suddenly exposed. Yuri opens his eyes and blinks tiredly at him._ _

__“Come here,” Otabek says quietly._ _

__Yuri groans and makes a show of pushing himself upright again. The water sloshes around them as he scoots closer, situating his legs over Otabek’s until Yuri’s so close he’s practically straddling him. Otabek tips his face up so that he can kiss him and Yuri hums a pleased sound against his mouth, bringing wet hands up to run through his hair._ _

__“Are you feeling all right?”_ _

__Yuri rolls his eyes a little. “Yes, Beka.”_ _

__“Not sore?”_ _

__“A little but that’s expected, right?” he says with a shrug, dipping his hands under the water to trace down Otabek’s stomach muscles._ _

__Otabek cups his cheek and Yuri leans into it. He’s always been tactile with Otabek in a way he isn’t with anyone else besides his Grandpa, ever since they met, but he’s almost overly so now. His omega instincts are still brimming right under the surface. Otabek thumbs over his high cheekbone._ _

__“Tell me what it was like for you?” he asks quietly._ _

__Yuri sits upright again and makes a considering face. “Besides incredible, you mean?”_ _

__Otabek huffs a small laugh. “Besides that, yes.”_ _

__“Honestly?”_ _

__Otabek nods, watching as a light pink spreads over Yuri’s cheeks. “Tell me,” he murmurs encouragingly._ _

__Yuri blows out a breath and rakes his own hair back with both hands, bundling it up at the back of his head and holding it there. “I’ve never felt my instincts so clearly before.” He shakes his head, looking somewhere around Otabek’s shoulder as he speaks. “Like, I’ve been suppressing them since I was thirteen, but it was so easy to just… they were _right there_.”_ _

__Otabek frowns a little. “Was it bad?”_ _

__“No,” Yuri says, meeting his eyes. “It was so good. Nothing’s ever felt that good before.” He lets go of his hair and finds Otabek’s hands in the water, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. “I mean… the omega instincts were stronger.”_ _

__Otabek nods. “You smelled fertile.”_ _

__Yuri’s head jerks up; he looks surprised and a little embarrassed. “Seriously?” Otabek nods again. “I felt like I… maybe I was.”_ _

__“What do you mean?” Otabek’s heart is starting to pound a little. He doesn’t know if he’s excited or afraid that his own alpha instincts might have been correct in thinking Yuri was ripe and ready for him._ _

__Yuri seems to fumble for the right words for a moment before he allows his gaze to drop and mutters, “Like I wanted you to breed me, or something.”_ _

__Otabek’s throat goes tight and dry as he squeezes Yuri’s fingers to stop his own from shaking. Logically, he knows that Yuri is very likely infertile but that knowledge doesn’t stop the jolt in his belly, the strong, awful desire for it that his alpha instincts give him._ _

__He loves Yuri. Plain and simple, he loves him, will take him exactly as he comes, and he doesn’t find him lacking in any capacity. He doesn’t care that they probably can’t actually breed, because they don’t need that. He doesn’t need that from Yuri to love him so fiercely that his chest aches with it._ _

__He ducks his head and kisses Yuri firmly and chastely. Yuri leans into it, kissing him back, and letting their foreheads press together when it breaks._ _

__“I love you,” Otabek tells him, unsure of where to take the conversation after Yuri’s confession._ _

__Yuri seems content to drape his arms over Otabek’s shoulders and pull himself closer until they’re flush together in the waning heat of the water._ _

__“Love you too, Beka.”_ _

__

__\--_ _

__

__Yuri drags his feet on getting dressed after they get out of the bathtub. The fact that Viktor and Yuuri are coming over before they head out to lunch, doesn’t inspire him in the least. He slouches around in leggings and one of Otabek’s t-shirts that’s so big it hangs off one of his shoulders and shows a mouth-shaped bruise below his collarbone._ _

__Otabek is a neat person by nature, but Yuri is still every bit a teenager, in that where he drops something is where it stays. He doesn’t think that Lilia would have allowed him to kick pair after pair of shoes off, just inside the door, and let them lie there; but Yuri has never really had his own space before and Otabek isn’t going to tell him how to behave in it._ _

__Yuri isn’t a slob, by any means, but there are still five or six pairs of assorted animal print shoes beside the door, and hoodies tossed in the corner chair, and more than one pair of earbuds mauled by one or both of their cats tangled up on the kitchen counter. It isn’t messy, but Otabek still feels a stab of panic at the idea of Nikiforov coming in here and judging him._ _

__Viktor isn’t related to Yuri but there’s an unmistakable protective air in the relationship between the two of them. Viktor has guarded Yuri’s secret for years, probably more fiercely than Yuri even realizes. Otabek wants to prove himself to Nikiforov, that he’s worthy to be at Yuri’s side. He can’t help it. Much like every other alpha instinct that he has, wanting to show that he can provide for Yuri and take care of him is one he can’t fully stomp down._ _

__He heaves a sigh as Yuri sits on the couch, feet kicked up on the old chest, Flura asleep on his thighs._ _

__Otabek leans on the back of the couch. “Who’s that?”_ _

__“Georgi. He’s got a date tonight.” Yuri sends his text and two more pop up, from two different people._ _

__Otabek leans his head against Yuri’s and squints to read it. Mila is the other person in the group chat and she’s just sent an impressive string of emojis, followed by _CALM DOWN_ in all uppercase._ _

__“Why’s he stressed?”_ _

__Yuri turns to him, mouth turning up at the side. “It’s a guy.”_ _

__Otabek arches his eyebrows. “Really?”_ _

__“Mhmm.” His phone buzzes and Yuri turns back to it, immediately tapping out a rather long reply._ _

__“Didn’t know he was interested.”_ _

__“Neither did he.” Yuri sends his reply. “It’s one of those hockey players Mila knows. I guess Georgi was there last night but he was busy getting felt up on the dance floor so we didn’t see him.”_ _

__Otabek snorts and kisses Yuri’s temple before standing upright again. “They all seem like such great guys. I’m sure he’s not awful at all.”_ _

__Yuri turns, dislodging a less than pleased Flura, and folding his legs up under him so that he can kneel on the couch. “Mila wouldn’t hook them up if he wasn’t going to be good to Georgi. Right?”_ _

__There’s a genuine strain of concern in the question and Otabek feels instantly bad for his sarcastic tone. He’d just rather never have to see any of said hockey players ever again. He puts his hands on Yuri’s and leans down to kiss him quickly._ _

__“No, she wouldn’t. I just hope this guy knows that Georgi isn’t completely sure what he wants.”_ _

__Yuri’s lips purse, still looking a little unsure, but he nods. “Me too.”_ _

__Otabek kisses him again. “Please get dressed. Viktor will be here any minute.”_ _

__Yuri pulls away to flop back dramatically onto the couch. “I can’t move. You’ve fucked all of my energy out of me.”_ _

__“Yuri,” he says, the word almost surprised out of him. Then, when a knock sounds at the door, he looks down at where Yuri is grinning up at him, he says much more urgently, “Yuri, please.”_ _

__“Nope,” he says, grinning wide enough to show off his teeth._ _

__Otabek promises revenge at a later date and goes to open the door, kicking aside several of Yuri’s shoes in the process. Neither Viktor or Yuuri have been over to see the apartment since he and Yuri moved in and set it up, and their first glimpse of the interior is Yuri lying with his legs sprawled open on the couch, with Otabek’s shirt on, riding up to expose his belly._ _

__Otabek resists the urge to scrub his hand down his face as he lets them in._ _

__For his part, Yuuri just steps over the scattered mound of shoes and toes his own off neatly beside one another. Viktor looks from Yuri, lazily lifting a hand to wave at them, to Otabek, and then smiles._ _

__“I love what you two have done in here,” he says, voice deceptively charming. Viktor hooks his hand around his bicep and holds on. “I’d like a tour before we head out. Yurio can show my Yuuri around, can’t you?”_ _

__Yuri jerks upright on the couch, Otabek’s shirt sliding further down his shoulder, displaying a whole new crop of bruises, as Viktor starts guiding him toward the hallway._ _

__“Hey!” he shouts. “You already did this!”_ _

__Poor Katsuki just rubs his eyes under his glasses and goes to sit on the arm of the couch to wait. Otabek feels oddly like he’s being led to his own execution when Viktor leads him into the bedroom and closes the door behind them. It smells exactly like what Otabek would imagine sex between an alpha and an omega would smell like: sweat, come, and the sticky-sweet scent of slick, which Viktor should never have been allowed to know._ _

__Otabek jerks his arm free and goes to shove open the window._ _

__“You shouldn’t be in here,” he says, keeping his back to Viktor to combat the flush on his face. “I know you care about him but you don’t have the right.”_ _

__Behind him, Viktor sighs and Otabek turns, watching him rub at his face. “I know. And I know we already talked about this but this is a bit unexpected.”_ _

__Otabek shakes his head. “It’s not—“_ _

__“Not my place, I know. And I know he’s going to be pissed at me again, but I’ve been looking out for him for a long time.” Viktor takes a breath through his mouth, obviously trying to not breathe in the scent in the room. “I know he has you, and I believe that you’re a good man and that you’re good for _him_. Just tell me you’ve talked about… everything.”_ _

__It takes a moment for Otabek to realize that he means pregnancy. Yuri obviously hasn’t told Nikiforov about his medical testing back in Moscow and Otabek isn’t going to do it for him. Like most everything else, it isn’t any of Viktor’s business._ _

__He nods. “We’ve talked about everything. We’re taking care of it.”_ _

__Viktor folds his arms against his chest but he looks satisfied with the answer. “I’m trying to set aside how protective he makes me feel.”_ _

__“I know. And I’m grateful you were there for him. But he has me now, and you have to trust that I can handle this.”_ _

__Viktor looks at him for a moment before he nods. “Letting that go, we still need to talk about last night, at the club.”_ _

__The incident with the alpha that had touched Yuri feels so far away, it hardly seems possible that it was actually only last night. He rubs at his eyes with his fingertips._ _

__“I don’t know what you expect me to say. Thank you for helping me. I lost control of myself but I’m not sorry. He touched Yuri. And I was too distracted to notice.” The guilt over the fact grips his belly and twists unpleasantly. He should have sensed Yuri’s distress, should have been able to hear his elevated heartbeat. He never should have let it get as far as it did._ _

__“It’s not your fault. Yuri is beautiful and he’s always going to draw attention.”_ _

__“And I’m short and unintimidating.”_ _

__“That’s not where I was going with that,” Viktor tells him, his voice oddly soft. “There will always be people who are going to behave like animals over him. You’re not going to be able to fight every single one of them.”_ _

__Otabek shifts his weight to his other foot, still uncomfortable with how strongly it smells of sex in here and how casually Nikiforov is reacting to it; he wants him out of their space._ _

__“What do you suggest I do, then?” Otabek asks because this all feels redundant. He’s not going to let someone put their hands on Yuri. Even if they were just friends, he wouldn’t allow that._ _

__“Be more aware of him. You have…” Viktor trails off, looking suddenly morose. “You have the ability to feel him and scent him better than anyone, better than I could. Better than I could hear my own Yuuri. What you two share is… profound and if you don’t learn how to use it to keep him safe, then you’re wasting it.”_ _

__Otabek has always been under the impression that Viktor’s somewhat flippant attitude and sunny disposition is the way he’s chosen to guard himself. He can’t claim to know him well, but he’s intuitive enough that he knows that Viktor is smarter than he lets on. He’s careful with himself and those he cares about. A bond like Otabek shares with Yuri is undoubtedly something he’s been chasing his entire life, and only recently found, to a great extent, in Katsuki. Now, he clearly wants Otabek to protect what they have the way that he protects his own._ _

__He’s suddenly embarrassingly grateful that Viktor is around (and willing) to offer his guidance. Otabek can’t imagine having a conversation like this with Maxim, or any other alpha he knows._ _

__He nods, conceding the point. “I get it, Viktor. I’m still learning.”_ _

__“I know.” Viktor’s expression is soft, his eyes almost glassy, before he blinks and it’s gone. “Now, let’s get out of here because I can’t stand the smell for another moment.” He says it with a cartoonish heart-shaped smile and a bright, airy tone that doesn’t match the subject matter at all. Otabek’s face flushes as Viktor turns from him and pulls open the door._ _

__Yuri is leaning against the wall outside their bedroom, arms folded and glowering. He still looks borderline inappropriate with Otabek’s shirt falling off his shoulder and teeth-shaped bruises mottling his pale skin. Katsuki is standing beside him, hand on his shoulder, speaking too quietly for Otabek to hear. They both straighten up when he and Viktor exit the room._ _

__Katsuki pats Yuri on the shoulder and allows himself to be lead away as Viktor draws even with him. Otabek watches his smile soften even further when Yuuri wraps a hand around his bicep and leans in to speak to him._ _

__The look Yuri gives Viktor is dark enough to kill. Otabek turns his face back toward him and leans down to kiss him, chaste and lingering. The sourness in Yuri’s scent bleeds out quickly._ _

__Yuri butts his forehead against Otabek’s and moves into the bedroom without a word, presumably to change. Otabek goes on to the living room where Viktor is looking miserable at the way both Flura and King are avoiding him in favor of climbing on Yuuri._ _

__“I smell like dog,” he says sadly, when Otabek draws to a stop by the couch. Otabek pats him on the shoulder in commiseration, while Yuuri kindly doesn’t point out that he must smell like dog as well._ _

__

__\--_ _

__

__Their lunch at an upscale hotel’s outdoor café draws a little too much attention. The four of them together (especially after the photos posted on instagram of he and Yuri just after they’d moved to the city for the summer) warrants far too many people snapping not even remotely discreet pictures of them._ _

__Viktor is so seasoned at this, that he ignores it without even letting on that he’s noticed it at all. Katsuki gets increasingly flustered the longer it goes on, however._ _

__“Maybe we should ask to move inside,” Yuuri says, staring down at the sweating water glass pressed between his palms._ _

__“Trade seats with me,” Viktor suggests, already pushing his chair out and standing. Yuuri moves without complaint, keeping his head down as he does. The switch puts his back to the street and keeps him out of direct view, but it doesn’t stop the occasional shout of his name._ _

__Otabek keeps his eyes on Yuri and the white-knuckled grip that he has on his armrest. He’d seemed fine, if agitated before, but Katsuki’s obvious discomfort has obviously pushed him over into anger. Otabek reaches over and puts his hand on top of Yuri’s. There’s an angry flush across the bridge of his nose when he glances over._ _

__“We can ask to move inside,” he says quietly, brushing his thumb over the back of Yuri’s hand._ _

__“We shouldn’t have to,” Yuri grumbles just before another disruptive shout is aimed their way._ _

__Really, this much attention is uncommon. Yuri’s Angels must have alerted people to their location or something, because ordinarily, they don’t get noticed even half as frequently as they are right now. He squeezes Yuri’s hand and Viktor flags down their waiter._ _

__

__\--_ _

__

__The walk back to their place isn’t much quieter. Two much less obnoxious fans had approached outside of the hotel and asked for photos with Viktor and Yuri. So he and Katsuki stand aside, burning up in the increasingly hot afternoon sun._ _

__Otabek feels a bit awkward, not ever having had much occasion to speak to Yuuri, and practically none without either Viktor or Yuri involved. He tugs at his shirt, pulling it away from his sticky chest, a few times, searching for something to say._ _

__Katsuki beats him to it. “How are you? After last night?” His Russian is clear, if halting, and Otabek is more than a little impressed at how quickly he’s picked it up._ _

__“I’m fine. A little embarrassed at how everything went down,” he admits._ _

__The look Yuuri gives him is sympathetic. “It’ll get easier,” he says, like he knows exactly what Otabek is referring to, in a night filled with glaring errors on his part. “To smell him,” he says, confirming that actually he’s some sort of clairvoyant._ _

__Otabek looks over at where Yuri isn’t even attempting to alter his resting bitch face in the selfie Viktor is taking of them with the girls. He tongues absently at the scab on his lip._ _

__“We bonded last night,” he says, not even thinking about the words until he’s already spoken them._ _

__Yuuri shifts beside him and Otabek forces himself to look at him. The small growth spurt he’d gone through after his presentation had caused him to creep up a bit in height; not much, but he’s at eye-level with Katsuki now._ _

__Surprisingly, Yuuri smiles at him. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”_ _

__That’s not what he was expecting to hear. He looks back at his own Yuri, watching as Viktor hands one of the girls their phone back and hooks his arm around Yuri’s neck, waving at them as they leave._ _

__“We haven’t really—it just happened. But…” he looks at Katsuki who is smiling at him. “Yeah.”_ _

__Yuri’s chest bumps his own and he groans into Otabek’s neck. “Take me _home_ ,” he grumbles. _ _

__Otabek keeps his arm slung over Yuri’s shoulders as they walk. It’s sunny and overly warm, and Yuri has his pale arms exposed in a plain black tank top that Otabek is pretty sure Yuri took from him back in Almaty. They walk in relative silence, with Viktor occasionally pointing out a landmark to him over the tops of Katsuki and Yuri’s heads._ _

__It becomes painfully obvious that some people are still attempting to take their pictures, a few blocks later. Otabek can feel Yuri’s agitation growing again, in how he hunches up under his arm and how bitter his scent starts to become. He tries to make himself smell more soothing but he’s still not sure that that’s something he’s actually capable of or not._ _

__When a professional-grade camera makes an appearance Yuri goes almost rigid with how hard his muscles have tensed. Otabek tightens his arm around his shoulders, afraid that he’s going to do something stupid (and potentially illegal). Instead, he reaches over and takes Katsuki’s free hand._ _

__Yuuri looks about as stunned as Otabek is but he doesn’t let go. Nikiforov goes along with it without question, not saying a word. There’s a faint smile at the corner of Yuri’s mouth when he glances up at Otabek, and he smiles back down, even if he isn’t entirely sure what’s happening._ _

__The photographer lowers his camera, looking equally baffled. Yuri laughs suddenly at something Katsuki is saying and it almost makes _him_ laugh. Their linked hands swing casually back and forth between them, and Otabek leans over to kiss his temple._ _

__He has no idea what is going to happen with these pictures or what anyone is going to say about them. He fights off the instant tightening of anxiety in his belly at the idea of his mother seeing them. This is all right. Yuri is allowed to be silly if he wants to be, and it’s something of a relief to actually see him _want_ to be. After the agony of the past couple of months, he thinks they deserve it. _ _

__Anything that can make Yuri laugh and smile so genuinely is worth it._ _


	5. Chapter 5

June brings warmer weather and cloudy skies. It rains an unfortunate amount and Yuri finds the two of them curled up on the couch with the cats more evenings than not. They skate every morning and things are gradually getting more and more competitive. He knows that very soon they’ll have to start choreographing for the next round of competitions. As much as he’s looking forward to it, though, he’s also wishing that it would never come.

Almost immediately, after the first round of their next qualifier, Otabek will have to return to Almaty. And Yuri doesn’t know when they’re going to talk about what happens next. 

He tries to focus on enjoying every single moment that they have with one another. Together they explore more of St. Petersburg than Yuri had ever cared to see, they skate, they cook, they hang out with their friends, and they fuck. 

Yuri spends his days blissed out on their bond and a little bit smug, knowing that knotting him reduces Otabek to a shivering mess in his arms. It’s a heady, intoxicating feeling, almost overwhelming in its juxtaposition because he’s never been so vulnerable before. 

Like everything else with him, though, Otabek makes it feel good. 

 

\--

 

On the last day of June, Viktor and Yuuri host Mila’s birthday on the rooftop patio of their building. It’s not a space exclusive to them, but Viktor must have bargained with their neighbors to keep them out for the evening, because Yuri recognizes almost everyone present. 

It’s a fairly intimate gathering of people milling around with drinks and food in hand. Yuri knows most of them but he’s lost the overall headcount. Everyone he skates with, including Mila’s hockey player boyfriend, and his teammate who has his hand plastered to Georgi’s hip at all times, are present. A few more girls that Yuri has seen in Mila’s instagram photos and another guy that Yuri doesn’t know who keeps sneaking glances over at him.

Yuri has to fight to keep from baring his teeth whenever he notices it happening. Otabek’s arm is a warm, heavy weight across his chest, keeping him content enough not to move. They’re sitting on one of the rooftop’s couches, Otabek sitting up with his legs stretched out and Yuri between them, on the chaise portion. There are three cast iron fire pits, and Otabek has blessedly picked a couch close to one. The heat of it keeps Yuri’s face warm while Otabek overheats him from behind.

The fingers on his chest rub back and forth in an easy, soothing pattern that has his eyelids drooping. He holds onto Otabek’s bicep with both hands, occasionally fingering the ties on the bracelet he’d bought him.

“All right?” Otabek’s voice rumbles against his temple. Yuri nods. “Tired?”

“A little.”

Otabek pulls him closer against his chest and Yuri squeezes his arm. “We can head out, if you want.”

Yuri tips his head back against Otabek’s shoulder and catches his eye. He smells safe and powerful, right now; Yuri wants to make sure his scent is always so content. Otabek lifts his eyebrows in question and Yuri realizes he hasn’t responded. He tips his chin up and kisses Otabek, feeling gentle fingers touch his jaw as his lips part to brush their tongues together. Yuri doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over kissing Otabek. It’s like fucking magic, every single time.

The couch jostles as someone drops down beside them and they both jump, nearly biting each other’s tongues in the process.

Mila sits beside them, a bottle of water dangling from each hand.

“Time to hydrate, love birds,” she practically coos at them.

Yuri squirms around enough that he can lift his foot to push at her with it. “Fuck off,” he says without heat.

Mila rolls her eyes at him. “You show up to my party empty-handed, and now you shun my incredible care.” She drops the bottles and flops over dramatically against Otabek’s side. “He’s so awful,” she bemoans as Yuri kicks at her again. “How do you put up with him?”

Otabek lifts his leg to pin Yuri’s down to the chaise; he struggles half-heartedly against it. “He’s cute,” Otabek tells Mila and Yuri deflates with a huff.

“Seriously, though,” Mila says. “Where’s my gift?”

“My presence is your gift, Baba,” Yuri says sweetly, batting his eyes.

Otabek’s chest shakes a little as he laughs and Mila pushes herself up from the couch, a grin on her pretty face. She attacks Yuri’s hair with both hands while Otabek holds him down. Yuri shrieks before she finally abandons the two of them, walking off with both of her middle fingers in the air.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Yuri grumbles, sitting upright to comb his fingers through his hair. It’s getting too long to be ruffled anymore; he piles it up in a messy bun with the elastic from his wrist.

Otabek sits up behind him, one foot coming down to rest on the floor. He watches Yuri fix his hair before leaning in to kiss the hinge of his jaw. Yuri tips his head up instead of back for another kiss. 

“I’m always on your side,” Otabek says. Yuri can sense the truth in it as easily as he can smell it in his scent. He fights a smile as Otabek takes both of his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says, pressing another kiss to his jaw, then another and another until Yuri sighs a bit dramatically. When Otabek buries his face in his throat, still kissing away, Yuri can’t hold back a laugh.

“All right, all right, you’re forgiven.”

Otabek curls his arms tightly around him and squeezes. Yuri pats at his forearms and lets himself be held. The ambiance of the party, the laughter and talking, the smiles on familiar faces, the heat radiating from the alpha holding him, all of it adds to the warmth building steadily in his chest. He feels safe. More than that, he feels loved.

Yuri turns in Otabek’s grip to tell him exactly that, when someone else drops down on the couch, bringing with them the smell of nicotine and cheap beer. It’s the guy who’d been eyeing him on and off all evening; now he’s sitting beside Otabek, smiling at them, even as he bites the filter of his cigarette to hold out his free hand.

Ever the gentleman, Otabek takes it. Yuri’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead as the guy spouts off something in Kazakh. Otabek looks surprised for a moment before he cracks a little grin and replies.

Yuri’s eyes narrow and he takes their moment of distraction to discreetly sniff the air. The guy is a beta, his scent dull and unappealing overall. He says something else to Otabek before plucking the cigarette from his mouth and exhaling smoke the opposite direction. He sets his beer can on the ground between his feet and offers that hand to Yuri.

“Ilya,” he introduces himself.

Yuri’s gaze flicks between his hand and Ilya’s face. Only Otabek’s hand, big and warm on his hip, squeezing, gets him to hold out his hand. Ilya takes another drag off his cigarette and Yuri feels a sudden craving for one, sharp and insistent in his belly. He averts his eyes, looking back out at the partygoers, catching a glimpse of Georgi and his hockey player.

“Yuri, I shoot for _Russian Life_ ,” he says, ashing his cigarette, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs. Yuri looks at him again, feeling a familiar creeping dread.

“So?”

Otabek makes a sound behind him but says nothing, meeting his gaze when Yuri looks at him over his shoulder. 

Ilya grins a little, taking one final drag off of his cigarette before leaning down to stub it out on the ground. He drops the butt into his beer can and reaches into his pocket for a half-crushed pack of cigarettes. Yuri watches as he shakes one out and plucks a lighter from the pack.

Ilya watches him watch as he lights up.

“So, I’d like to shoot you. Full spread.” He nods at Otabek. “Him too, if you’re willing to talk about your relationship.”

Yuri doesn’t blanch but it’s a near thing. He’s avoided the question of his and Otabek’s status for months now, and to have it mentioned so casually almost feels wrong. He’s not ashamed or embarrassed, by any stretch of the imagination. He just wants to keep it private. He wants to protect it. 

But still. He looks at Otabek, who reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “We can talk about it later,” he says. “You don’t have to make your mind up right now.”

Yuri feels his nose scrunching. “You’d want to go public?”

Otabek huffs a little laugh. “Haven’t we already?”

If one considers their endless instagram posts and tweets, and the pictures Yuri’s rabid fans have taken of them (not to mention the photos of them having lunch a few weeks ago that surfaced quickly on every trashy gossip site imaginable), they have indeed been public. But still, to give anyone who wants a glimpse at their life together means is to invite them close enough to see Yuri’s omega status.

And that is what he’s not ready for.

He offers a half-hearted shrug at Otabek but he sees the understanding in those dark eyes, smells warmth of his scent. He bites his lip and looks back at Ilya.

Yuri is silent a moment before he holds his hand out. “Give me that.”

Ilya laughs but shakes another cigarette out of the pack, still sitting in his lap, and lights it off the one between his lips.

“Yuri,” Otabek says warningly.

Yuri takes the offered cigarette and glances over at him. “Don’t be angry with me,” he says quietly.

Otabek leans back against the couch and Yuri has to fight the instinct to follow his warmth. He runs a hand over his mouth and down his chin, scratching audibly at his stubble. When he doesn’t say anything, Yuri takes a drag, only coughing a little. He’s loath to admit that he’s missed this.

“Talk,” he says to Ilya, bringing the cigarette back to his lips.

 

\--

 

Yuri is pleasantly buzzed and absolutely exhausted by the time they make it back to their apartment. Literally the only reason he even bothers to shower and brush his teeth is because he knows that Otabek won’t kiss him goodnight otherwise. 

He crawls into bed and waits, watching as Otabek strips naked and tosses his clothes at the laundry basket in the corner. But Otabek doesn’t climb in under the covers with him, instead quietly closing himself in the bathroom. Yuri rubs his eyes with a groan, resolutely staying upright as the shower starts up again; if he lies down, he’ll be out in seconds.

Otabek comes out a few minutes later, hair toweled dry, wearing only a pair of boxer-briefs. Yuri settles down against his pillow when Otabek finally lifts the sheet and joins him in bed. The light clicks off and Otabek goes still with his hands folded against his chest. 

Yuri feels the first flicker of anxiety in his chest. His heart starts to beat a little harder as his eyes adjust to the darkness and he takes in the look on Otabek’s face.

“Beka?” he asks, suddenly feeling remarkably clearheaded. Otabek looks at him without moving his head much. He doesn’t say anything. “Are you mad about the cigarette?”

Otabek turns his head more fully on the pillow to face him. “Not happy, but not mad. I can’t make you not smoke.”

Yuri reaches for one of his hands and Otabek lets him take it. “I won’t smoke again.”

Otabek sighs and frees his hand to hold his arm out; Yuri immediately closes the distance to squirm up against his side, cheek pressed hard against his shoulder. 

“I don’t like it, but I’m not angry, Yura,” he says, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Yuri tries to keep his relief from spreading to his scent, but judging by how much tighter Otabek’s arm gets around him, he doesn’t quite manage it. 

“Then what?”

There’s a moment of silence that treads right up to the line of being too long, but then Otabek sighs again, rustling his hair. 

“I’ve been thinking about something.”

“What?” Yuri presses.

“I don’t want to upset you.”

“Is it the interview?”

After nearly an hour of back and forth with Ilya, Yuri had agreed to the interview and photoshoot with a few stipulations. The chief one being that he wouldn’t do it without being given the interview questions a week in advance and he wouldn’t answer anything but the ones he approved. He’s certain that Ilya thinks he’s doing it to protect the integrity of his relationship reveal, which is true, but he’s also trying to protect his secret. He can’t do that if he’s blindsided by a question about his status. 

He realizes with a start that he hadn’t even asked Otabek if he was comfortable with giving the interview before agreeing to it. He’d just taken his silence and the thumb on his hip rubbing soothing circles into his skin as acquiescence.

Otabek shakes his head. “No, I don’t mind. I think it’s probably better we release something officially before we’re competing again.”

“Then what?” Yuri asks. Part of him thinks that he should sit up and turn on the light so that they can have this conversation, but a bigger part of him wants to stay right where he’s at. He doesn’t know if he wants to see whatever is lurking under the surface in Otabek’s eyes. He shifts until his ear is pressed to Otabek’s chest, over his heart, listening to the steady beat of it.

Otabek only hesitates a moment, this time. “I need to disclose my status change to the ISU.”

Yuri can feel everything come to a halt in his head. He goes completely still for a moment, listening to the increased rhythm of Otabek’s heart for a second before he pushes himself upright. Otabek follows.

“Yuri—“

“Beka—“

“Yuri, listen to me.”

“You _can’t_.”

Otabek turns on the bedside light and Yuri blinks against the sudden harshness of it. 

“It’s against regulation not to,” he says gently.

Yuri blanches. “I _know_ that! It’s also against regulation to dope but half the fucking Olympic team does that too!” 

He can smell the anxiety rolling off of Otabek as easily as he can see it on his face. “Yura, I won’t tell them about you.”

“If I give this interview and then you come out as an alpha, people will jump to that conclusion without you having to tell them!” 

Otabek puts a hand on his thigh. “Yuri, you’re too loud; it’s late. Please, just talk to me,” he says, voice quiet but imploring, almost urgent. “I’m listening.”

Yuri feels a hysterical laugh bubble up in his chest as his eyes inexplicably begin to burn. “You’re _not_! I’ve been lying about my status for years and if they find out—“

“They won’t.”

“You don’t _know_ that!” 

Otabek folds him into a tight hug the moment the first humiliating tear trickles down his cheek. He shushes him as Yuri lets out a frustrated half-cry against his shoulder. Yuri just burrows deeper into his hold, taking in gasping lungfuls of Otabek’s soothing scent.

“Please,” Yuri says, muffled by Otabek’s shoulder. “I’m not ready, Beka.”

“Okay,” Otabek agrees so easily that Yuri feels an immediate stab of guilt over it. This has clearly been weighing on Otabek, probably since he’d recovered from his rut, and Yuri has turned him around on it by sounding and smelling pathetic. 

“Beka—“

Otabek shushes him again. “I won’t. I can’t hide it for long, though, not without blockers. I’ll have to go on them.” Yuri clamps his eyes shut; he doesn’t want to lose the way that Otabek smells either.

As the minutes begin to creep by, Yuri doesn’t know what to say. Now that his outburst has passed, he feels embarrassed and ridiculous. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t considered that Otabek would likely feel the need to be honest about his presentation; or that he hadn’t thought anyone would notice it. He turns his head until his cheek rests against Otabek’s shoulder, focusing on calming his breathing and the soothing curl of his alpha’s scent around him.

Before long, Otabek guides them back down until they’re lying curled up together again. Yuri feels uncharacteristically afraid of something he’s long-since learned to both control and live with. But now, it’s not just himself he has to consider. Now he has to count on Otabek too; he’s ashamed that, in his fear, he forgot that he could, without question.

“I’m sorry,” Yuri murmurs when Otabek turns out the light and presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Don’t apologize. I shouldn’t have brought it up tonight.”

“I kind of forced you.”

Otabek shrugs. “It’s all right,” he assures, stroking a hand over Yuri’s shoulder and down his arm before repeating the motion.

Yuri sucks on his own bottom lip for a moment. “You shouldn’t have to hide because of me.”

There’s a moment of silence, which makes Yuri think that Otabek is carefully choosing his words. “I don’t mind staying private, if it’s what you want, Yura. And I know that my experience will never be the same as yours, but I also think people will be more supportive than you realize, when you do finally announce yourself.”

Yuri isn’t sure that he believes that, but he isn’t ready to find out which of them is right, either. All he knows for certain is that he’s been protecting himself on his own, with no one but his Grandpa, and then reluctantly Viktor, on his side for years. And now he has Otabek who has wholeheartedly joined them, and even that had scared the hell out of him at first. He isn’t ready to bare that part of himself to the world, yet. Even though he knows that, at some point, he’ll no longer have a choice in the matter, he doesn’t know that he’ll ever feel ready for it.

He rubs the back of his hand against his nose as he sniffs. “Soon,” he says, even though he doesn’t really feel it. “Not—not this time, but soon. Maybe the next one.”

Otabek nods, tightening his arms around him and ducking his head to finally give Yuri the kiss he’s been looking forward to ever since he’d crawled into bed. 

“Whenever you decide, Yuri. I’ll be with you.”

And that, at least, Yuri trusts.

 

\--

 

Yuri feels fucking ridiculous. He’s sitting on a locker room bench at the arena wearing a pair of athletic leggings and one of Otabek’s too-big, black tanks. He’s got one skate on and the other on the ground, bent over like he’s reaching for it. He doesn’t have to dig down deep for the disgruntled look Ilya is trying to coax out of him.

Otabek stands further back with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall. He looks more pensive than Yuri feels. 

Ilya finally stands from his half-kneeling position and checks his camera display, and Yuri sits upright, his back protesting. This is worse than any other photo he’s ever had to pose for before; he feels like a tool. He knows that his anxiety is bleeding into his scent because Otabek seems restless, picking at his forearms and shifting his footing. He pushes off from the wall when Ilya steps back and makes his way over to stand between Yuri’s knees.

“I feel like an ass,” Yuri mutters up at him. Otabek curls his hands over Yuri’s head and slides them down to cup his neck. He can smell the warm comfort of Otabek’s scent being rubbed off on him; he closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“I think we’re good, here,” Ilya says a moment later, hanging his camera around his neck by the strap.

“We’re done?” Yuri asks, trying to keep the hopeful lilt in his voice to a minimum.

Ilya shakes his head. “One more.” He looks to Otabek. “You still in?”

Otabek had promised to be in at least one of the pictures, given that the interview Yuri still has to give features a handful of questions about their relationship. His face twists a bit but he nods. 

“Great,” Ilya says. “Get changed and I’ll meet you out there in a minute.” He doesn’t pause or wait for comment before heading out of the locker room and into the tunnel leading to the ice.

Yuri slumps, pressing his forehead into Otabek’s belly with a groan. Slow, careful hands continue to move over his neck. His hair is braided on one side of his head, tight to the scalp, while the rest of it hangs free, and Otabek combs his fingers through it, over and over. It feels so good, so soothing, that Yuri has to work to keep his eyes open.

“Come on, Yurochka,” Otabek says, pulling back. “What are you wearing next?” 

Yuri has changed clothes twice already and he really doesn’t want to do it again. When he huffs, Otabek cups his chin and draws his gaze up. “Fine,” he says without any prompting. It takes a moment to get his skate off, and Otabek handles tying up the laces and packing them away again while he shucks his leggings for a pair of skin-tight, black jeans with holes at the knees and thighs. He shucks Otabek’s tank top for a black shirt with leopard print sleeves. 

Otabek settles his bag on the floor beside him and steps over to roll up his sleeves to his elbows.

“I was thinking,” Yuri starts, holding up one arm and then the other. Otabek raises his eyebrows in question. “You wore your Kazakh Team jacket, right?”

Realization dawns almost immediately and Otabek’s eyes go even softer. He swallows. “You want to wear it?”

Yuri shrugs but he’s leaning into Otabek, trying his best to make his scent appealing, angling to get what he wants, though he doesn’t think he’ll have to try very hard.

“We’re making it official,” he says. “Can I?”

Otabek tilts his head down the short distance to kiss him, cupping his cheeks in both hands. He bumps their noses together and Yuri wrinkles his even as he smiles.

“Is that a yes?”

“I’ll go get it.”

The final set of pictures they pose for has them rinkside, Otabek sitting on the boards while Yuri leans on them beside him, looking up. At first it feels unnatural and forced, like they’re trying to convince theoretical readers of something. He feels like he’s trying to sell his relationship with Otabek. The sour turn of his scent has Otabek looking even more wooden than he feels.

After a few minutes of Ilya trying to coax them into relaxing, Otabek slides down off the boards and takes his hand. Yuri looks down at it and then up to meet his dark eyes, suddenly feeling the weight of Otabek’s country colors on him. Otabek leans in to kiss his forehead and Yuri can hear both the snap of the camera and the clink of beads on the bracelet—Russian white, blue, red—that he’d bought for Otabek. He closes his eyes as he smiles, leaning into the touch, welcoming Otabek’s scent marking as much as Otabek welcomes his. No one will know what they are, just yet, but they’ll see Yuri’s colors on him and one day, everyone will realize just how much Otabek is his. The smug, possessive thought has him absolutely brimming with contentment, and judging from the pleased sound that Otabek makes, his scent isn’t masking the fact.

He doesn’t know which pictures will be selected yet, or even how his actual interview is going to come out sounding, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s looking forward to it. Just a little bit.

 

\--

 

Yuri’s thighs shake from squeezing around Otabek’s waist so tightly by the time he comes down from his orgasm. His throat is aching, raw, his face hot, whole body overheating, and he feels so fucking good. The high from his own release combined with Otabek’s knot and the overwhelming headiness of his blissed-out scent is enough to override the strain.

He presses his feet into the sheets, slowly stretching his tensed thigh muscles while trying not to shift too much to cause Otabek’s knot to pull at his hole. After a minute or so of Otabek gasping for breath against his throat, he finally stops coming. Yuri soothes his shudders by carding his fingers through Otabek’s sweaty hair and smoothing his palms down his sweaty back.

“Fuck,” Otabek finally murmurs, lips light on his pulse as he settles in to wait out the swelling of his knot. He keeps as much of his own weight off of Yuri as he can, but their chests stay pressed together, Yuri’s come drying sticky between them.

Yuri practically hums with pride at having been the one to make Otabek sound like that, all raspy fucked-out tones.

They’ve gotten better at this, since the first time, building their stamina. Otabek had been almost embarrassed after the first handful of times hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes. But he’s gained control over his body and Yuri is reaping the benefits of it, now.

He sucks at his own bottom lip and scratches his nails lightly over Otabek’s shoulder blades.

Before he can organize his thoughts into something coherent, Otabek lifts his head and strokes his hair back from his cheeks, where it sticks with sweat. When Yuri smiles, Otabek smiles back and kisses him.

“You looked good today.”

“I look good every day,” Yuri purrs, tipping his chin up.

Otabek nips at it and Yuri gasps and swats lightly at him. “You do,” Otabek agrees, grinning; his eyes flick down to Yuri’s mouth when he drags his teeth over his bottom lip. “You gave a good interview, too, though,” he says, trailing his gaze back up to meet Yuri’s. 

“Yeah?”

Fingers trace over his damp cheek as Otabek nods. “I don’t know how you manage to be so…”

“Articulate? Composed? Gracious?”

“Humble,” Otabek deadpans with a flick to his jaw. Yuri sticks out his tongue a little. Otabek takes a breath and shifts a bit; his knot is starting to deflate and Yuri is already feeling wetter than before. He wants to press his legs shut at the sensation but curls his toes in the sheet instead of squeezing Otabek between his thighs.

“No, what, though?” Yuri asks to distract himself, still pushing his fingers through Otabek’s hair. There’s a distinct upturn in Otabek’s scent at the renewed sensation. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch for a moment.

“All of that. You’re braver than I could ever imagine being.”

Yuri yanks at his hair and Otabek’s eyes pop open again. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t call yourself a coward. A man who would rent a motorcycle in Barcelona and chase me down to ask me to be his friend is not a coward.” 

Otabek stares at him without speaking for a moment before dropping his head to press against Yuri’s collarbones. He muffles a groan there and Yuri smiles to himself, folding his arms around his shoulders. 

“That was too much, wasn’t it?” he asks, lips moving against Yuri’s skin.

Yuri grins to himself. “It was nice.”

“That means ‘too much’.”

Yuri snorts quietly. “I said what I meant.”

Otabek shakes his head a bit. “Don’t lie, you’ll tell our children that someday.”

The words seem to freeze the moment, hanging heavily over them, as the weight of Otabek on his chest turns suddenly stifling. Otabek realizes his mistake almost instantly, pushing himself to his elbows and looking at Yuri with wide eyes. The panic in his posture is even stronger in his scent.

“I didn’t mean—“

“I know.”

“Yuri, I—I didn’t mean anything—“

Yuri puts his palm over Otabek’s mouth to stop him from saying anything further. Even with the fierce pull of disappointment at his probable infertility clinging on, he doesn’t know what Otabek will apologize for but he knows that he doesn’t need to hear it. He doesn’t want to.

“I know,” he says again.

“Yura,” Otabek says, pulling his hand away gently by the wrist. His eyes are pleading. “I didn’t mean—I don’t even know if you—“

“ _Beka_ ,” he stresses.

Otabek’s knot has shrunk enough that he can pull out but he stays between Yuri’s thighs, even when his cock slips free. “What?” he asks, voice quiet.

Yuri swallows to wet his throat, tracing his fingertips over Otabek’s brows and then down to his cheekbones. He’s beautiful, Yuri thinks. Beautiful and concerned with saying the right things, and making Yuri happy. He knows that whatever he wants to say, that it would be whatever Yuri needs to hear, because Otabek always knows what Yuri needs. He trusts that. He also thinks he knows what Otabek needs to hear, right now.

He swallows again. “Someday,” he whispers.

Otabek’s eyes search his own and he blinks quickly a few times. “Yeah?” he asks.

Yuri nods, stroking his thumbs over Otabek’s cheeks again, watching his eyes flutter closed. 

“Yes,” he says louder, firmly. “Now carry me to the shower.”

Otabek’s eyes open and he looks at Yuri for a moment before he huffs a laugh. His eyes are still shining when he leans in to kiss Yuri and for once, Yuri thinks he’s said the right thing.

 

\--

 

“Yuri.” It’s not a question.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, about what I said earlier.” 

Otabek is curled up behind him, arm around his waist, almost overly warm in the summer heat, even with the windows open. It’s late and Yuri is exhausted from having to get up early and he doesn’t know if he has it in him to have this conversation right now. He squeezes Otabek’s wrist.

“It’s all right.”

“It just came out. I wasn’t thinking.”

Yuri presses his face hard into his own bicep and groans out his frustration, feeling the arm around him tighten. 

“Beka, I said it was _fine_. Stop pushing it, will you?”

“Let me say this,” Otabek says, his tone serious and more than a little bit urgent. “I love you, and I know you’re it for me, Yura. So whatever is in our future, I want all of it. No matter what. Okay?”

The breeze picks up for a moment, making the curtains flutter, casting moving shadows from the streetlamps outside. Yuri watches one stretch and crawl across the wall before disappearing again when the curtains fall still. He lets loose a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and tightens his hold on Otabek’s wrist. 

Lacking words, he merely nods enough that Otabek can feel it. Lips press against the side of his neck and stay there. 

“Okay?” Otabek asks again, voice barely above a whisper.

Yuri clears his throat, reaching up to rub at his eye, ignoring the dampness of his lashes. 

“Yeah,” he rasps. “Fuck. I love you too, Beka.” 

When he turns, Otabek meets him for a hard, lingering kiss.

 

\--

 

Yuri isn’t in the best mood when he comes home from training with Lilia. They’ve already begun working on the choreography for his next round of qualifiers and she’d taken the opportunity to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that there will be nothing of his last exhibition skate in anything she creates for him. He’d told her on the spot that she could craft his free skate but his short program he’ll choreograph himself. 

Before he even tosses his bag down, he knows that Otabek isn’t home. Probably out for a run or something. Yuri still feels tense, agitated with himself for snapping and with everyone else who still refuses to see him as anything but a sullen teenager. 

The cats meow at him as he pushes the chest away from the couch to clear room for himself. He’s still in his ballet leggings and his thighs could use a longer cool down than he’d given them before he’d stormed out of Lilia’s. Sinking down into a split is almost a comfort. He leans forward until he can press his chest to the floor, feeling the coolness of the hardwood seep in through his t-shirt. It feels good, all of it.

He sets his phone in front of himself and scrolls through twitter. JJ is in his mentions, trying to direct his attention to a picture, but he passes it by without acknowledging it. JJ has tagged him in the same photo on instagram. In it, he’s winking and he’s pointing at his feet. His shoes are admittedly amazing, hot pink, leopard print with a thick, black sole.

> **Jjleroy!15** am I Russian cool yet **yuri-plisetsky**???

It already has a ridiculous number of likes and comments, and Yuri is tempted to scroll by without acknowledging him here, too. After a long moment of deliberation, though, he taps the comment button and types, _you’re not even Canadian cool._

He hasn’t even moved on to the next picture before random people are liking his comment and blowing up his notifications. 

He’s nearly closed the app when JJ responds; Yuri regrets letting Otabek talk him into following JJ back.

> **Jjleroy!15** haha don’t be jealous I’ll send a pair ur way!!

Yuri closes the app, locks his phone, and tosses it on the couch as he pushes himself to his feet and heads to the shower.

 

\--

 

Yuri’s foul mood doesn’t let up the next day either. Ever since he and Otabek had arrived at the rink, Viktor had practically commandeered Otabek to talk about a coaching matter. Viktor barely qualifies as a coach for Katsuki and Otabek coaches preteens, so Yuri isn’t sure what they could possibly be talking about for a half hour. 

He takes a break from fending Mila off from trying to needle him into agreeing to go out with her and her boyfriend tonight. Otabek is shaking his head at whatever Viktor is saying but he’s smiling as he does it. Yuri focuses on stifling the bitter curl of jealousy in his scent as he gets off the ice and not on someone else putting that look on Otabek’s face.

Yuri checks his phone, ignoring the direct message from JJ on instagram, asking for his address, and the one following it that threatens to get it from Otabek. His feed barely holds his attention; his eyes keep flicking back up over his phone to where Viktor is now gesturing broadly with his hands to go with whatever stupid thing is coming out of his mouth now. Gritting his teeth, he tries to focus.

His idle scrolling comes to an abrupt halt when a picture crops on with a **based on people you follow** beneath the comments. It’s Leo de la Iglesia, who Yuri has never had much occasion to interact with before; he hasn’t made use of Leo’s number outside of that night in Barcelona. However, his most recent picture shows him with his arm around a sleeping Guang Hong, who is leaning against his side. Leo’s smile is content and his eyes bright. It’s captioned, _He’ll get used to Cali time in no time_ followed by three emojis: the Chinese flag, right pointing arrow, and the American flag. The location is San Marcos, California.

Yuri’s heart starts to beat harder as he taps through to Leo’s profile. He hasn’t interacted with many of the other skaters he’s competed against in the past, mostly because he hasn’t cared to or didn’t want to give someone else the chance to reject him. Usually, the fear of him being discovered as an omega was more than enough reason for him to keep to himself. Now, though, he kind of wishes he knew more about the others, specifically these two.

The second most recent picture on Leo’s profile is the two of them obviously in a car, making peace signs at the camera and grinning from ear to ear. _He’s here!_ is all the caption reads. 

Then before that, Yuri has to scroll back a ways to the GPF to see pictures of the two of them together again. And there are a lot, each cozier looking than the last. 

Are they together?

He clicks through one of the tags on Guang Hong to his profile. His most recent picture is from yesterday, one someone has taken of him and Leo, sitting beside one another in a restaurant booth. Guang Hong is smiling widely for the camera but Leo is looking at Guang Hong. His skin is dark enough that Yuri can’t tell for certain, but he thinks Leo’s face is flushed; he’s got one elbow on the tabletop, the side of his jaw braced in his palm, and he’s looking at Guang Hong like he hangs the stars.

The caption is in Mandarin Chinese, separated by two forward slashes and then, _So happy again!_

Yuri’s hands shake a little as he stares down at it. The way that Guang Hong has his head tilted to the side, exposing his scent gland to Leo isn’t by accident. It’s an omega trait that Yuri had quickly learned to mask, after presenting, and something he’d learned to leave in private, after he’d met Otabek. They must be together. He wracks his brain trying to think if he’s ever heard of their orientations before. When he comes up with nothing, he pulls up his browser and taps out Leo’s name, fingertips leaving sweaty smudges on the screen. 

Beta.

Searching Guang Hong results in an article from about six months ago where he claimed to be unpresented, and a carefree attitude about it. He’s a little bit older than Yuri so he’s either late presenting, or he’s lying. With China’s less than generous approach to omega rights, Yuri wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he’s hiding it. Russia isn’t quite as difficult as China is, but Yuri is still fighting the inevitable. 

The longer he thinks about it, the more certain he becomes that he’s right. His phone screen dims and eventually auto-locks as he stares down at it. Fuck, he might not be the only one. 

There’s no telling how long he sits there, gaze unfocused and mind whirling, his own breathing loud in his ears, before Otabek ducks down into his line of sight, a worried look on his face. He blinks, eyes feeling dry and then suddenly welling with wetness to compensate.

“Are you all right?” Otabek asks, putting a hand on the small of his back. The heat and pressure of it is instantly soothing. 

Yuri nods, sniffing and setting his phone aside; he pulls his sleeve down over his knuckles and scrubs at his nose with the back of his hand. “Fine. Just… zoned out.”

Otabek’s thick eyebrows are still drawn together in a look of concern, but eventually he pushes himself up, kissing Yuri on the forehead as he stands. Yuri closes his eyes and reaches up to grasp one of Otabek’s wrists with his hand. He takes deep, slow breaths, pulling in Otabek’s familiar, calm scent, and it settles something in his chest that has been fraught with tension ever since he saw that first picture.

“Ready?” Otabek asks as he pulls away.

Yuri nods and leans down to pull off his skate guards, setting his phone and every other thought in his head aside, for now.

Before he goes to bed that night, he follows both Guang Hong and Leo on instagram. In the morning, they’ve both followed him back.

 

\--

 

The following Saturday finds the two of them out with Viktor and Yuuri again. They hit a different club this time and neither one of them drink very much. Yuri is content to dance with Otabek and kiss him until his lips are numb. The night slips by, and Yuri finds his focus taken up almost entirely by the fact that it’s already July; their time together is slowly but surely dwindling away and it just makes him cling tighter.

They leave well before the lights come on and walk home in the unusually hot, night air. Otabek crouches down and allows Yuri to climb onto his back, after Yuri stumbles a third time on the uneven sidewalk.

“You tired?” Otabek asks, after they’ve gone a way in silence. 

Yuri unlinks his fingers and tucks his arms around Otabek’s chest, resting his check against his shoulder. “Not really,” he says, belatedly.

Otabek hitches him up further, adjusting his hold on Yuri’s legs. “You feel all right?”

“I’m fine, Beka.”

Otabek squeezes his thighs and keeps walking. Yuri pinches his eyes shut and focuses on keeping his breathing steady. He still has more than a month with Otabek; there’s no need to get upset about the end of summer, right now. 

 

\--

 

Most nights find the two of them lounging around in the living room with their cats. Sometimes they play video games with Otabek’s friends back in Almaty and Yuri doesn’t even bother trying to tell himself that he doesn’t go after and kill Maxim more than anyone else. If Otabek notices, he never says anything about it. Other times they FaceTime Otabek’s sister together, or more rarely, Yuri’s Grandpa. Otabek spends those conversations being quiet and reserved and then blowing out a relieved breath as soon as they hang up.

“Do you not like him?” Yuri had asked, testily, after the second call with his Grandpa.

Otabek had looked at him with raised eyebrows. “He knows we’re having sex, Yura.”

“He does not!” 

Otabek had just continued to stare at him until Yuri had huffed and changed the subject. 

This night, like most others, they just relax on the couch, after dinner. Otabek is reading with his elbow propped on the armrest, his other hand in Yuri’s hair; Yuri lies along the length of the couch, his head on Otabek’s thigh, looking at Leo’s latest batch of pictures on instagram. 

The newest is two pictures cropped together. The first is of Guang Hong absolutely swimming in Leo’s Team USA jacket, his hands obscured by the sleeves and a pleased smile on his face. The second is of Leo in Guang Hong’s much smaller hoodie, with the sleeves halfway up his forearms and the hem of it riding up his belly; he looks like he’s trying and failing to scowl at the camera. 

_This clothes sharing seems a little one-sided to me…_ , the caption reads.

Yuri’s finger hesitates over the like button for a moment before he taps it. He locks his phone and sets it down on the floor before rolling on his belly to rest his cheek against Otabek’s thigh. Otabek waits for him to settle before he resumes carding his fingers through his hair.

Yuri wishes that he had a reason to strike up conversation with Guang Hong. He’d been desperate enough to find Otabek in Barcelona that he’d called Guang Hong, but he hasn’t spoken to him since; and now, his fear of discovery keeps him from initiating again. He wants to know if he’s right, he wants to know if he’s not alone, even though at this point he knows in his gut that Guang Hong is like him. He doesn’t know why it’s so important to him either, and that’s equally as frustrating to him. After all, he has Otabek, he’s in _love_ with Otabek, he has someone who understands him and cares for him the way that he is. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?

Fighting the indignant burn in his eyes, Yuri blinks and turns his gaze up at Otabek, who is staring intently at the book held open in his other hand. Yuri takes the opportunity to just look at him. Otabek is unfairly attractive and Yuri admires—and envies—every single bit of him. Where Yuri’s biology has made him small and pretty, Otabek’s has made him strong and solid and gorgeous. Everything about him that had made Yuri’s face heat during their meeting in Barcelona, all those months ago, still makes his insides twist pleasantly, now. His dark eyes and thick lashes, his chiseled jaw, the fullness of his lips, and his warm, safe scent. Yuri wants him even more now, than he did then, and he still can’t believe that he has him. He never dreamed he would ever even want this sort of domesticity with an alpha, let alone have it.

Yuri pushes himself up to his knees on the cushion and Otabek glances at him as his hand falls away. 

“Hungry?” he asks after a moment, setting his book with the spine up on the armrest to hold his place.

Yuri doesn’t say anything, still looking at him, still studying his face, that soft look in his eyes. It’s the way that Viktor looks at Katsuki. It’s the way that Leo looks at Guang Hong. And it’s the way that Otabek has looked at him from the moment they met in that alley. 

“Yuri?” Otabek asks, starting to reach for him with a curious hand.

Dodging the touch, Yuri swiftly and carefully slides to the floor, getting quickly to his knees between Otabek’s thighs. There’s a rushed intake of air above him and Yuri looks up, sliding his hands over the insides of Otabek’s thighs. The muscles tense under his touch but Otabek’s knees tip open further to allow him room to settle. Yuri tosses his hair over his shoulder and smiles with more confidence than he feels as he starts to pull open Otabek’s jeans.

Otabek sits there, looking stunned, but compliant until Yuri gets his zipper open and starts to tug on his jeans.

“Wait, wait,” Otabek says in a rush, grabbing both of his wrists in a gentle hold. His eyes are so dark, Yuri can’t tell where the pupil and iris meet. 

“Don’t you want me to?” Yuri asks, his voice already going hoarse.

Otabek’s scent goes hot and sticky sweet, making Yuri shudder. “I do,” he says. “Are you sure, though?” Yuri has touched Otabek with his hands and had his knot inside of him, but he’s never sucked him before. His mouth is watering at the thought of it as he nods.

“Please,” he adds; Otabek shivers when he does, only holding onto his wrists for a moment longer before letting them go. Otabek’s hands go to the waist of his jeans and his hips arch off of the couch as he pushes them down; Yuri tugs them off and tosses them aside. 

The hardwood is awful for his knees, making them ache already, but he ignores it, leaning up to press his lips to Otabek’s belly, feeling the muscles there tighten as he shudders. He brings his hand up to curl around Otabek’s cock, through his boxer-briefs, and squeezes. 

“Oh, fuck,” Otabek whispers, reaching for Yuri with both hands. One lands on his shoulder and the other on his forearm; neither of them try to guide his movements. 

Yuri feels powerful as he works his way lower, even though his heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. He’s never done this before, but he wants to. Otabek is hard and leaking in his hand, dampening the fabric of his underwear before Yuri even sits back enough to tug them down to his knees. 

Otabek’s cock is big and hard, the head smeared with precome and Yuri’s mouth waters. He wants this, he wants it so badly. He leans in to nuzzle at the sweaty crease of his hip, dragging his tongue over the salty skin there, feeling Otabek’s cock jerk against his cheek. The hands on him spasm and squeeze before the touch goes light again, and Otabek shifts restlessly beneath him.

Yuri takes his cock in hand and jerks him a few times, watching him leak. He’s never been this close up with Otabek’s cock before, and the little scar from his circumcision is visible in contrast to how red the rest of the skin is. He leans in to kiss it and Otabek moans, loud and surprised, and not at all restrained like he usually is. 

He takes his time, exploring Otabek’s cock, kissing and licking every inch of him until Otabek is shaking beneath him. The stretch marks at the base of Otabek’s cock are faded, leaving behind shallow indents that are soft under Yuri’s fingers, when he touches them. He loves it, loves every single part of Otabek. He loves that Otabek’s body did this for him. 

Yuri drags the fingers of his free hand over Otabek’s stomach and up his chest to scratch a nail over his nipple, Otabek gasps and arches.

“Please,” he finally rasps. “Yura, please.” 

Yuri rolls the hardened nub between his fingers for a moment before he lifts Otabek’s cock off of his belly and sucks him into his mouth. 

The muscles under his free hand are so tight they feel like they might snap. Yuri rakes his nails down the contours of his abs, feeling him shake. Otabek doesn’t move, doesn’t lift his hips or accidentally choke him, like Yuri had feared he might. He can’t take much, but he works his fist over what he can’t reach with his mouth. He fears he’s too uncoordinated and sloppy, getting spit everywhere, but Otabek touches him reverently as he bobs his head and works his tongue, mindful of his teeth. He tastes a fresh burst of precome every time he prods at the slit with his tongue.

He brings his other hand down to cup Otabek’s balls, feeling how tight they are. Otabek jerks then, the hand on his shoulder going to the back of his neck, pushing his sweaty hair aside to touch skin.

“Yura,” Otabek rasps, and it sounds like a warning.

Yuri slows his movements, dragging his lips up slowly as he pulls off, shivering pleasantly at the punched out moan Otabek looses. He swallows the taste on his tongue and looks up at Otabek.

“I’m going to knot,” Otabek says, sounding strained. “Can’t do it in your mouth.”

And suddenly Yuri has a vision of that, Otabek’s knot locked behind his teeth, coming down his throat and Yuri having no choice but to swallow all of it. He moans without meaning to and the base of Otabek’s cock throbs in his hand. Yuri looks down at it, realizing only then how swollen it’s become.

Their eyes meet for a moment and then they’re both moving. Yuri clambers up from the floor, climbing onto Otabek’s lap with jerky movements. Otabek strips Yuri’s shirt off, tossing it aside and pulling him close so that he can suck at his nipple. Yuri cries out, shoving at his own leggings, trying to push them down. The arm around his waist tightens to hold him steady, and Otabek’s other hand yanks at his clothes. Together, they wrestle Yuri’s leggings and underwear down to his knees. Yuri leans back, trusting Otabek not to let him topple over, and gets them off of one foot, freeing his legs and leaving the fabric hanging from his ankle.

Yuri dives back in, tugging Otabek’s head back by his hair to kiss him hard enough that their teeth clack together. Otabek sinks two fingers into his leaking hole, pushing in as deeply as he can without pause. Yuri cries out and yanks at Otabek’s hair again, listening to him grunt.

“In me,” he gasps. “Now. Right now, fuck, get your fingers out.” Yuri swats at him, reaching for his cock with the other hand.

“Yuri,” Otabek says urgently, “wait. It’s too big.”

And he’s right, Yuri can feel how hard he is, how swollen his knot already is. He feels a sob rise up in his throat but he holds it back behind his teeth. Meeting Otabek’s eyes with determination, Yuri squeezes his hand around his knot so hard that Otabek jerks under him, sucking in a pained breath. Hands grip his hips tight enough to bruise and Yuri whimpers, wanting that, wanting proof of Otabek’s touch on his skin. 

“Fuck, Yuri…” Otabek tips his head back, his hair sweat-damp at the roots and sticking to his temples. He gnaws at his lip while Yuri squeezes at his knot with both hands, so tightly that his arms shake with it. Otabek’s knot starts to shrink under the pressure. “Tighter. It’s working,” Otabek gasps, hips shifting restlessly; Yuri hears the pain in his voice but doesn’t let up, reaching down to give his balls a sharp tug. Otabek yelps and smacks at his wrist and Yuri lets go. 

Otabek holds his cock steady and Yuri reaches behind himself to spread his hole open. He’s so wet, his fingers slip on his own skin. The head of Otabek’s cock presses against his hole and he bears down, guiding it with his fingertips; another rush of slick at the feel of it makes Yuri shudder and push down. He lowers himself onto Otabek’s cock in one go, crying out quietly as the returning swell of Otabek’s knot quickly locks them into place. 

Otabek doesn’t thrust—he can’t—and Yuri is left to grind down against it, the pressure on his prostate is so intense and the thick heft of Otabek’s dick inside of him is almost too much. He leans in to nuzzle at the sweaty hollow of Otabek’s throat, licking and sucking at his skin as he rocks in Otabek’s lap. 

The pheromones are so heavy between them that Yuri almost struggles to breathe. 

“Fuck, Beka, _fuck_ ,” Yuri gasps, pressing his forehead hard against Otabek’s collarbone.

Otabek’s hands guide the roll of his hips, big and hot and steadying. He feels safe and loved, tied to this alpha that he can’t get enough of. The omega instincts roil right beneath the surface and Yuri lets them take control; he doesn’t want to fight them.

As Otabek starts to come, Yuri reaches down to press a hand against his own belly. 

“I can feel you,” he rasps, nudging his nose up under Otabek’s jaw and back behind his ear, biting where his scent gland is, far less prominent than his own, but no less addicting.

Otabek jerks up, wrapping his arms around Yuri and all but crushing him against his chest. Yuri brings his arm up under Otabek’s and grips his shoulder. He wants to come so badly, but he can’t convince himself to reach for his cock. All Yuri can focus on is the slight distention of his belly. He traces his fingers over it, shuddering and clenching uselessly around Otabek’s knot, milking it in small spasms that make Otabek’s breathing go even heavier against his neck.

He’s so full. Otabek has filled him up enough that his belly is swollen with it. Yuri grinds down again just to feel it, that hard pressure inside of him, where Otabek is still so, so hard. And it’s all because of him. Otabek did this for him, _to_ him, because he wants him so badly.

Yuri clenches again and Otabek rocks up and suddenly Yuri is coming, crying out weakly and spurting in short, thick flecks over Otabek’s belly. He curls into Otabek, pressing his face hard against his neck and pinching his eyes shut. Yuri gasps and shakes and rides the waves of orgasm as they crest and crash, and finally bring him back down.

Otabek’s hands are still on his back, holding him close as he murmurs to Yuri. He can’t understand a word of it, so it must be Kazakh or Yuri’s brain isn’t fully back online yet. Still, he rests there, feeling Otabek’s knot hard inside of him and the strong, certain sensation that he is safe.

 

\--

 

Yuri stands shivering in their bedroom, his skin crawling with goosebumps after another shared shower. It’s become another constant in Yuri’s life that after Otabek knots him, he will care for him as his instincts demand. They shower together and Otabek dries him off, then helps him dress.

He braces himself on Otabek’s shoulders as he slips his legs into a pair of boxers. There’s a smug sort of satisfaction that curls in his belly when Otabek helps him into one of his own t-shirts, smelling strongly of alpha and _home_. 

If it were later in the evening, he’d be content to climb into bed, but as it is, they haven’t even had dinner yet. So Yuri takes Otabek’s offered hand and follows him back out into the kitchen. The living room smells so strongly of the two of them that Yuri has to concentrate on not letting his dick react to it.

He sits gingerly at the kitchen island and watches Otabek pad around in a pair of Yuri’s own leopard print socks as he cooks. The smug satisfaction in his belly morphs into something warmer, something more like pride, at the sight.

“Beka,” Yuri says, watching Otabek push his hair out of his eyes with his forearm, his fingers covered in flour and dough.

“Yeah?” he asks, flicking his gaze toward Yuri.

Yuri rests his chin in his hand and smiles contently. “Animal print really works for you.”

Otabek huffs a quiet laugh and goes back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your continued support and good vibes <3 Only one more chapter to go! I can't believe it's almost over already. (Come see me on tumblr if you're into Haikyuu!! also because I'm freshly into that and would love fandom friends.)


	6. Chapter 6

August feels like the beginning of the end. It’s dramatic and a little bit pathetic, but Yuri doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go from living with Otabek to not knowing when he’ll see him again. It’s not just the omega part of him that fears the end of the summer, but his entire being. Every single inch of him feels panicked when he thinks about it, about letting Otabek go back to Almaty without him. Back to his apartment and his Kazakh friends, his family, his life back home that Yuri hasn’t yet made himself feel like a permanent fixture in.

He wants to stay here in St. Petersburg together and skate and help one another choreograph and go out with their friends. He doesn’t want to let go of this, now that he has it. 

Looking back on it, he knows that it’s his fear that drives the increasing amount of arguments as the days slip away. He watches their time dwindle down to an end that he doesn’t feel at all prepared for. He finds himself picking at things until Otabek is radiating frustration with him and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know how to just stop and enjoy the time they have left together here.

His irritation with himself makes him want to cry because he doesn’t know what to _do_. 

It’s after yet another pointless nitpicking session that Otabek shuts himself away in their bedroom, leaving Yuri standing around by himself in the kitchen, feeling instantly regretful. The cats dart around his legs, meowing up at him because he’s standing beside the cupboard where they keep the treats; he gives them each one because his hands are nervous for something to do.

Yuri gives it ten minutes and then makes tea for Otabek because he doesn’t know how else to approach him without a peace offering.

The floorboards that creak are easy to avoid at this point, but Yuri lets himself step on them anyway, so that Otabek knows he’s coming. He stops outside their closed bedroom door and listens. Otabek is talking to someone in Kazakh so Yuri knocks before opening the door.

Otabek sits at the head of the bed with his phone pressed to his ear; immediately, he holds up one finger to Yuri, who pauses just inside the door. 

After sitting in on so many FaceTime sessions with Otabek and Jasna, Yuri has picked up a few words in their native language. Hardly anything that could be considered useful, just random words and a few short phrases. Here, Yuri recognizes the word _mom_ and nothing else. He looks down at his bare feet, shifting his weight as the mugs in his hands start to heat up the handles to the point of burning.

An eternity later, Otabek hangs up the phone and blows out a slow breath that puffs up his cheeks, raking a hand through his hair. He looks up at Yuri and pats the bed, folding his legs up to make room in front of him. 

Yuri passes him a mug as he sits down, setting his own on the floor. Otabek thanks him for the tea and then an awkward silence falls over them. Yuri is reminded of the first few minutes of their interaction in Barcelona, after they’d gotten off of Otabek’s motorcycle. He taps his toes against the floor for a moment and then looks at Otabek.

“I’m sorry I yelled.”

Otabek sets his mug aside on the nightstand. “You want to tell me what’s bothering you, or are we going to do this from now until September?”

And that hurts a little, that Otabek can see through him so clearly when Yuri doesn’t even know himself what’s going on in his head. He scratches the back of his neck and then folds his hands between his knees, pressing them together. 

“I don’t know,” he says, even though it’s partially a lie.

Otabek sighs, running his hand through his hair again. “Yura, you need to be honest with me. I can’t fix things if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Yuri swallows around the lump forming in his throat. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” He glances at Otabek again. “Summer’s almost over and—“ he cuts himself off, looking somewhere around Otabek’s sternum instead of meeting his gaze.

“And what?” Otabek prompts quietly. “We’re not over because summer is, Yuri. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Yuri can’t help rolling his eyes. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again and we haven’t even talked about it. That makes me nervous.”

“So let’s talk about it. You don’t have to pick fights with me for the reassurance afterward. I’m not going anywhere, Yuri.” Otabek puts his hand on Yuri’s thigh and squeezes as he speaks. The warm weight of it is a huge comfort, especially as his cheeks heat at Otabek’s insight.

“All right,” Yuri says, turning and bringing one leg up under him so he’s facing Otabek. “When are we going to see each other again?”

“I can come back in October,” he offers immediately. “My birthday is the 31st and we could spend the week together, if you’d like.”

“Of course I’d like,” Yuri says, rolling his eyes. Otabek pushes gently at his head and Yuri smiles. “Before that, though…” he starts, trailing off again.

“I compete at the end of September. And you have to get ready, too. We can’t lose sight of our careers, right now, Yura.” Otabek’s voice is gentle and his fingers tuck Yuri’s hair behind his ear as he speaks, but the words make Yuri blanch no matter how soft the delivery.

He blinks at Otabek.

“My heat is in September,” Yuri says, making Otabek’s fingers still on his cheek. He watches confusion cloud Otabek’s eyes as he lets his hand drop back to Yuri’s thigh.

“All right,” he says carefully. “I forgot. You never actually said but I think I’d worked that out at some point.”

And that’s fair, really. There is still so much of what he is that Yuri is only just learning to be comfortable sharing with someone, even if it is Otabek. He nods to himself. 

“Well,” he shrugs, “I figured I’d spend it with you in Almaty. Then your birthday in October. And after?”

No matter how hard he tries, Yuri cannot decipher what he’s seeing in Otabek’s eyes. He falls quiet again, feeling an unwelcome heat begin to creep up the back of his neck; he forces himself to hold Otabek’s gaze.

“You want to spend your heat with me?” Otabek asks after a moment of heavy silence.

The heat on his neck starts to crawl across his cheeks. “I thought that would be obvious.” Yuri can’t keep the harshness from his tone. It’s embarrassing to think that Otabek might not want to help him through his next heat, after everything they’ve been through together. 

Otabek takes a deep breath. “Yuri,” he says carefully, “are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Yuri snaps, smacking his hands down against the mattress. “Why wouldn’t I be? Why would I want to spend another week fucking myself on my fingers and trying not cry the entire time because of how much it hurts when I have _you_ to help me?” 

“Yuri,” Otabek rushes, “I didn’t mean that. Of course I want to help you. I just—heats are serious—“

“ _We’re_ serious!” 

“ _Yuri_ , listen to me, please. I mean, you must trust me with _everything_ , when you’re in heat. It’s a huge amount of trust to give someone, to take care of you and not hurt you.” He cups Yuri’s cheek and then his neck, squeezing. “I’ve never helped anyone through heat before. What if my instincts cause me to behave differently? I’d never forgive myself if I hurt you.”

It gives Yuri pause because he hadn’t considered that Otabek would say anything other than yes. He hadn’t thought about anything that Otabek’s just said, either; that it might even make him uncomfortable, among other things. He drops his eyes, watching his fingers where they pick at the stitching in the duvet. 

“I guess I didn’t think of that. Any of it,” he mumbles, feeling his face heat as his eyes begin to burn. “I just figured…”

“I want to help you,” Otabek says gently, taking hold of his hand and squeezing his fingers. Yuri doesn’t look up, shifting his gaze to Otabek’s exposed kneecap showing through a hole in his jeans. 

“You don’t have to.” As much as it pains him to say it, he means it. Yuri has dealt with every one of his heats alone, up to now, and he can deal with this one too. His vision starts to blur.

Otabek sighs and shifts on the bed, hooking an arm around his waist and pulling until Yuri helps Otabek situate him between his legs, chest to his back. Otabek kisses the side of his neck and then his scent gland, making him shiver. 

“I want to help you, Yurochka,” he says again, lacing his fingers on Yuri’s belly. “We just have a lot to talk about before we decide it’s what’s best for you.”

Yuri huffs an annoyed breath. “How could it be worse than what I’ve been doing?” he asks. “You have no idea what it’s like.”

“No, I don’t,” Otabek agrees. “I don’t want to go into this blind. I don’t know what my body will do when I smell your heat pheromones, I don’t know how I’ll react. I don’t know if you’re more likely to get pregnant.” 

Yuri’s whole body goes hot all of a sudden. “Neither do I,” he admits. “But that doctor said I’m probably not capable of carrying.” He looks at Otabek over his shoulder, taking in the flush on his cheeks. “Doesn’t that mean all the time?”

Otabek shakes his head. “I don’t know, Yuri. I think maybe we should—you should go on birth control. Just in case.”

Something in the back of Yuri’s mind shrivels at the words from the alpha that he’s bonded to. He turns his head away and Otabek catches his cheek gently with one hand. It’s frustrating, infuriating really, because Yuri’s still young, he and Otabek are still new, and despite being in love with him, he’s not ready for the possibility of a child. And yet, hearing Otabek say it makes some primitive part of him ache.

“Yuri,” Otabek murmurs, lips brushing the skin of his neck. He sounds concerned and Yuri can smell the anxiety in his scent.

He takes a slow breath and shakes his head slightly. “You’re right,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ll go back to the doctor.”

Otabek nods and kisses his throat again. “When in September? I compete the second weekend.”

“The last week,” Yuri tells him, voice still feeling heavy behind his teeth.

“I’ll fly you to Almaty.” Yuri squeezes Otabek’s hands and squirms back against him. “You’ll have to meet my mom.”

“I hope you mean afterward,” Yuri deadpans

Otabek snorts and bumps his forehead against Yuri’s temple. “Yes, after, smartass.” Yuri tries and fails to suppress a smug little smile. “She’s already angry with me for coming out here all summer before introducing you to her.”

“She’s pretty strict, huh?” Yuri asks, idly tracing his fingertips over the bumps of veins in the back of Otabek’s hand.

“She’s traditional.”

Yuri taps the sides of his feet together in silence. “Will she like me?” he asks after a moment.

The scent that Otabek had been emitting designed to calm him, cuts off abruptly, telling Yuri everything he needs to know. 

“Oh.”

“She’ll like that you’re an omega,” Otabek says quickly. “I honestly don’t know what she’s going to say.”

“Well, what’s she been saying when you talk to her on the phone?” Yuri presses.

“Mostly that she’s angry with me. She wants to know about your family—“ Yuri stiffens and Otabek tightens his arms around him, “—what sort of means you come from—“

“Are you fucking kidding me? What century is this?” Yuri asks, sitting upright so he can look at Otabek again, partially turned between his legs.

Otabek lets out a frustrated breath and drags a hand over his face, up into his hair. “It’s different in Kazakhstan. I told you.”

“I know, but really? Can she deny—will you still mate me if she doesn’t approve? You know I don’t come from money.” 

The admission pains him but Otabek knows already. Bringing up their potential mating for the first time, this way, scares him more. But Otabek doesn’t even bat an eye before responding.

“Nothing will change my mind about you.”

“She’s your mother.”

Otabek snags the collar of his shirt and pulls him closer. “Nothing will change my mind,” he says again, just as strong and certain as the first time. Yuri detects no hint of a lie in his scent or in his words; he catches Otabek’s hand as it falls away. “You just have to know that there are cultural differences. And things I haven’t prepared for, because I thought I was a beta all my life. I don’t know what she might say or do when she meets you. But you can’t—you have to try to like her, for me.”

Yuri rolls his eyes but he squeezes Otabek’s fingers again to soften the involuntary move. “Of course I’ll try,” he huffs. 

Otabek holds his gaze, searching, for a long moment before he cups Yuri’s neck and pulls him into a slow kiss. Their noses bump and their foreheads touch when they break.

“This is going to work,” Otabek assures him confidently, even though his voice is soft. Yuri nods, not doubting him for a moment.

 

\--

 

“Yuri,” Otabek’s voice is soft, almost hesitant. 

Yuri looks up from his phone at him. Otabek is twisting the bracelet Yuri had given him around his wrist in a nervous-looking gesture. 

“Yeah?” he asks, the word coming out quieter than he’d intended.

Otabek looks over at him from the other side of the couch, putting his hand on Yuri’s ankle as he does. 

“My rut is in September.”

Yuri blinks at that. He doesn’t know how he could have overlooked the fact, but judging by the tight grimace on Otabek’s mouth, he hadn’t realized it either, until now. 

“When?”

Otabek shrugs, looking down at Yuri’s feet in his lap. “The week before your heat, I think. You went into heat after I went into rut, right?”

Yuri nods even though Otabek hasn’t looked up. “I forgot about that.”

Otabek huffs a laugh. “So did I.” He scrubs a hand over his eyes. “Fuck.”

“You’ll still be able to skate,” Yuri tells him, sitting up and crossing his legs. “This rut shouldn’t be as bad as the last one, right?” 

“Shouldn’t be,” Otabek says with a shake of his head.

Yuri watches him for a long moment before he climbs to his knees and leans over, wrapping his arms around Otabek’s head and pulling him down. They collapse back against the cushions, Otabek letting out a surprised sound as they go down. He shifts, trying to take his weight off of Yuri, but Yuri wraps a leg around his, holding him in place. He buries his face in Otabek’s hair, scratching at the back of his neck.

“You’ll be okay, Beka.”

The sound Otabek makes is a little bit desperate and it only makes Yuri hold him tighter. The past couple of weeks have made Yuri feel like he’s standing on shaky ground, and seeing Otabek unsure of himself doesn’t make him feel better about anything, but it makes him feel like he’s actually able to comfort him. Otabek has been a rock since the start of their relationship, steadfast and mature and confident. Yuri getting to see him uncertain is just another part of himself that Otabek is trusting him with.

Yuri runs his hands up and down Otabek’s back, just feeling him breathe against his neck and Otabek’s heart beating against his chest.

 

\--

 

The week before Otabek is set to leave, there’s a festival outside of St. Petersburg. It mostly means good food and shopping and a modest fireworks show out in the suburbs, but to Otabek it means a chance to rent a vintage motorcycle and drive them out in the open air. 

Yuri feels a warm sense of familiarity as he climbs on behind Otabek and wraps his arms around his waist. He wants to rest his cheek against his shoulder, but the helmet keeps him from doing so. The melancholy in his belly is almost strong enough to overpower the delight he gets from smelling the sweetness of Otabek’s scent before the wind whisks it away.

The light pollution isn’t as bad where they stop, and Yuri walks with one hand in Otabek’s, allowing himself to be lead along, and his head tipped back, taking in the stars he can see through the sporadic cloud cover. It’s a little too warm to be completely comfortable, even this late in the evening, and his hand is sticky where their palms press together, but Yuri holds on tighter. He doesn’t want to let go of Otabek for even a moment.

They peruse shop stalls together and eat and drink until Yuri feels like he’s too full to move. He collapses on the curb, out of the way of most of the chattering crowds. Otabek follows him down, sitting close enough that Yuri can lean against him and get an arm around his shoulders immediately.

It’s too hot for it, but Yuri doesn’t care. 

They sit for a while, watching the people who pass by, laughing and talking and looking generally happy, like Yuri’s life isn’t days away from falling apart. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to just go back to living a life without Otabek constantly present. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to pack up his things from the apartment and move back in with Lilia and pretend like it’s all right.

They’ve done it before, phone calls and texts and FaceTime, but it’s not the _same_. It’s not at all the same. Yuri’s eyes burn; his scent must turn sour because Otabek pulls him in tighter and presses a kiss against the top of his head. He doesn’t offer useless placations like _it’ll be all right_ or _we’ll see each other soon_ , because it won’t keep Yuri’s world spinning on its axis. It won’t help anything, because Otabek is leaving soon.

“Yuri,” Otabek says after a few minutes of silence. “Yura, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

Otabek tips Yuri’s head up and looks him in the eye. The downturn of Otabek’s mouth isn’t an unfamiliar expression on him, but right now, it looks decidedly unhappy. He knows this is going to be difficult on both of them, but Otabek is stoic, a rock in the storm Yuri creates; and right now, he’s upset too. 

Yuri feels suddenly guilty at how much he’s allowed his own emotions to override everything else going on around him. He reaches up and touches the hard line of Otabek’s jaw with his fingertips; his stubble scratches under Yuri’s fingernails. He’s beautiful, Yuri thinks, far from the first time. Otabek is absolutely gorgeous, and Yuri has no idea what about himself is so attractive to someone who looks like Otabek. 

He leans up and Otabek meets him instantly, tilting into the kiss Yuri presses to his lips. Otabek licks into his mouth and Yuri sucks in a breath that fills his nose with nothing but warmth and _alpha_.

Abruptly, Otabek pulls back, his brows drawn together, creating a furrow between them. Before Yuri can ask him what’s the matter, Otabek licks his own lips.

“You’ve been smoking,” he says, dragging his thumb under his own bottom lip, leaving it looking damp.

It’s not a question and Otabek’s observation is a correct one. Still, Yuri averts his gaze and looks back out at the throng of people moving around just an arm’s length away. He can feel Otabek’s gaze boring into him. It feels more like being busted by his Grandpa than by his boyfriend.

“I’m stressed out,” he says by way of explanation.

“I think we both are.”

Yuri shakes his head, even though it’s not a denial. “It was only one.”

Otabek sighs and his arm slips down Yuri’s back until he’s pressed to the ground behind him. Even though the contact remains, Yuri still feels a surge of panic at the loss. He leans into Otabek harder. 

“Don’t be pissed at me.”

Otabek lifts his other hand to rub at his eyes. “I don’t like when you smoke. How will you skate if you can’t breathe?”

Now Yuri sighs, but it’s rougher, angrier. “Don’t act like my Grandpa, right now. I don’t need that shit, Beka.”

Otabek looks at him again before he pushes himself to his feet. If Yuri thought the sharp feeling of panic he felt a moment ago was strong, it’s nothing like the one he feels as he scrambles up after Otabek. 

“I’m getting us a drink,” Otabek says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Just stay here a moment.”

“Beka—“

But Otabek is already disappearing into the crowd. Yuri drops back down to the curb and digs his heels into his eyes. 

“Stupid,” he tells himself. “Stupid. Fuck.” He digs the half-crushed pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and tosses them at the garbage can nearby. They don’t make it in, but Yuri doesn’t really give a fuck. He smacks his hand against his forehead again and closes his eyes, already forming an apology and a promise not to buy any more cigarettes in his head.

With a sigh, he straightens up and pulls his phone out of his back pocket. His customary distraction, and borderline obsession, has become prowling Leo and Guang Hong’s instagram accounts. He hasn’t made any attempt to speak to either one of them, mostly because he doesn’t know what he’d say if he did, but he can’t quell the compulsion to look at their pictures.

Guang Hong’s latest is from last night, a selfie of the two of them with Leo holding up a disgusting looking basket of fries. For the first time, the caption is in English and then followed by a Mandarin Chinese translation; it seems a more important implication than the actual caption itself: _He promises they’re good!_ followed by a queasy looking emoji.

Yuri doesn’t know what to make of it.

He switches then to Leo’s profile and sees a similar picture to Guang Hong’s but this time he can see that they’re sitting on top of a picnic table outside of a fast food restaurant. Guang Hong’s hand is on Leo’s thigh. 

In Leo’s newest picture, Guang Hong is standing up to his knees in the ocean, shielding his face from the setting sun with one hand and pointing with the other. The caption is just a red heart emoji.

A bottle of water enters his vision and Yuri jumps, looking up and taking it from Otabek who sits down beside him again. 

“Thank you,” he says. Then, “I won’t smoke anymore.”

Otabek runs a hand through his hair and sets his cheek against his palm, elbow on his thigh. “I can’t tell you what to do, Yuri. I shouldn’t.”

“Don’t be angry with me,” he says again.

Otabek holds out his other hand and Yuri takes it, linking their fingers together and squeezing. “Not mad,” Otabek tells him, drawing his hand up to kiss the back of it, making Yuri’s stomach twist pleasantly. “I just want you to be with me for as long as I can have you.”

Yuri presses closer and maneuvers himself around until he’s resting on Otabek’s thigh. Otabek brushes his hair aside and leans down to kiss his neck. Neither of them moves for a while, content to just sit there, wrapped around one another in the heavy night air. 

Eventually, Yuri sits up again and cracks the bottle of water Otabek had brought him. 

“You’re friends with Leo, aren’t you?” he asks, fiddling with the cap.

“Leo? de la Iglesia?” Yuri nods. “I guess, yeah. We hung out a bit after he beat me out for gold, before.” When Yuri doesn’t offer anything else, Otabek asks, “Why?”

Yuri looks down at his feet and toes at a crack in the pavement, unsure of how to respond. After a moment, he unlocks his phone and shows it to Otabek; Leo’s instagram post is still pulled up. 

“Okay?” Otabek says slowly, making it sound more like a question. He looks at Yuri with his eyebrows drawn up a bit.

“Are they together?”

Otabek looks bewildered a moment, his features twisting a bit in confusion. “That was the impression I’ve always gotten.” The _why?_ is unspoken.

Yuri locks his phone and sets it down in his lap, moving on to pick at the label on his water bottle instead. He breathes out heavily, Otabek waiting him out in silence.

“Is he an omega?” he finally makes himself ask.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t tell at the time, I couldn’t have smelled it back then.” Again, the _why?_ is implied. Otabek holds his gaze, and it feels impossible to look away.

“I think he is.”

A beat of silence, and then Otabek says, “Okay.”

Yuri fists a hand in his hair, feeling suddenly frustrated with Otabek. “Do you know what that could mean for me? I wouldn’t be alone.”

Otabek blinks, looking taken aback. “You’re not alone.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Do I make you feel that way?”

“No!” Yuri tugs at his hair and then tucks it back behind his ears with both hands; it’s really gotten entirely too long. “I wouldn’t be the only one. If he comes out before I do, I wouldn’t—it wouldn’t be so… _much_.” He groans. “I’m not explaining it right. I don’t know why it’s so important but it _is_.”

Otabek snags his hand as he goes to pull at his own hair again. “I know. I know, Yurochka.”

Yuri sags, feeling like someone has come along and let the air out of him all of a sudden. Otabek pulls him in by his hand and settles his arm back around him. A kiss presses to his temple and Yuri closes his eyes, breathing in the soothing scent Otabek emits for him.

“I don’t know why,” he repeats quietly. “I don’t want to be the only one.”

Otabek strokes a hand over his hand and then curls it around his shoulders. “You’re not the only one, Yuri. You’ll see, someday.”

When Otabek says it, it leaves him with a different impression from the voice in his head. He doesn’t feel ashamed for keeping himself hidden, or like a coward. He is afraid, there’s no denying it, but having Otabek tell him he can’t possibly be the only one in this situation, it feels more like comfort than anything else. It feels like the truth, and he believes it.

 

\--

 

Whatever remains of Yuri’s earlier self-doubt melts away as he luxuriates in the high of his orgasm that night. The room is sticky-hot, even with the windows open and the covers kicked off onto the floor. The sweet ache in his body is nearly eclipsed by the overpowering swell of hormones that Otabek’s knot triggers within him. He lies there, on his belly, with his legs sprawled and his head pillowed on his arms, practically humming with delight.

Otabek lies on his side next to him, fingers tracing nonsense patterns over the slowly cooling sweat on his back. It only adds to the blissful sensations, making his toes curl with every pass of Otabek’s fingers over the dimples at the base of his spine.

Before too long, Otabek climbs off the bed and lifts him, carrying him into the shower. Yuri lets himself be washed and dried, drawing the line at Otabek getting him dressed; even if he does hold onto him for balance as he draws on a pair of boxers. 

The room has cooled off by the time they crawl under the sheets. Otabek is a warm, solid weight against him, and Yuri burrows into his arms, even though he knows they’ll both wake up overheating. He’s comfortable and tired, his eyelids heavy. 

If Yuri had the power to freeze time, he thinks this would be where he hit pause. The specter of the future looms overhead, but in this moment, Yuri is too content to worry.

 

\--

 

The only reason that Yuri asks Viktor to take him to the airport to drop Otabek off is because he knows he won’t let himself cry, then. And the reason that he brings Katsuki along is because he knows that if he _does_ get emotional, Katsuki will let him without making something out of it. He mostly has everything figured out, besides how to actually step back and watch Otabek walk away from him.

He and Otabek have already had their big goodbye this morning, back at the apartment. They’d moved Yuri’s things back to Lilia’s the day before so he wouldn’t have to come back and do it himself and see all of the spaces where Otabek’s things used to be. Yuri hadn’t slept for shit, curled around Otabek and watching the room grow lighter and lighter as the sun crept along the horizon. He didn’t want to let go then and he certainly doesn’t want to let go now.

He doesn’t think he’s strong enough.

Otabek sets his backpack down in one of the stiff, plastic chairs outside security and turns to him. He looks pained, mouth twisted downward, his skin unsettlingly pale, only made worse by the dark circles ringing his eyes. Otabek hadn’t slept any better than he had. 

As comforting as it is to know that Otabek is just as effected as he is by their impending time apart, Yuri wishes he never had to have visual confirmation of it.

Yuri folds his arms against his chest, his skin prickling under the frigid airport air conditioning. As if on cue, Otabek pulls his hoodie up over his head, setting his hair on end, and hands it to him. It’s still uncomfortably hot out but Otabek had worn it for him, just to be sure it would carry his scent for as long as possible. Yuri takes it from him and bundles it against his chest, as if he can keep Otabek’s scent from leaking out.

He feels awkward and kind of like he wants to throw up. Yuri has imagined this moment an unfortunate number of times over the past month or so but he’s never quite put an accurate name on the range of emotions he now feels. He can sum it up with just one, though. 

Misery.

Otabek takes his face in both hands and leans down to kiss him. Yuri fumbles his hoodie over one arm and pulls Otabek close with both hands fisted in his shirt. He’s shaking when Otabek eases back and bumps their noses together. They’ve purposefully not left much time for Otabek to go through security and get to his gate, so they can’t linger here for long.

Even knowing this, Yuri still can’t get his fingers to unclench. 

“Six weeks,” Otabek murmurs, stroking his thumbs over Yuri’s cheeks. 

Yuri has to clench his eyes and swallow down the pathetic sound that threatens to rise up in his throat. He nods, even though six weeks sounds like six years, at this point. He swallows dryly.

“I love you,” he whispers.

Otabek folds him into a tight hug. “I love you too.”

“FaceTime me.”

Otabek nods and pulls back. He has to go. They both know it, but Yuri holds onto him. 

“Beka…”

Otabek kisses him. “I love you,” he says again. His eyes are red and glassy when he stands upright and shoulders his backpack again. “Go home and take a nap; I’ll call you when I get back to my place.”

Yuri nods tightly. What he wants to do is grab Otabek and haul him back out to Viktor’s car and take him home again. What he does is press another lingering kiss to Otabek’s lips and fold his hoodie against his chest to keep from reaching for him again; his fingers ache from how tightly they clutch the fabric. 

“Love you, Beka,” he rasps.

Otabek touches his neck one final time, pressing his thumb against the soft spot behind his ear where Yuri’s scent gland sits. And then he’s walking toward security.

Yuri turns and walks away before he can make an embarrassing scene. Viktor and Katsuki are waiting for him as he steps outside into a wall of muggy heat and draws a ragged, heavy breath that sits like water in his lungs. Neither of them say anything or try to touch him, and Yuri is grateful for it. His grip on Otabek’s hoodie is so hard that his knuckles hurt; he needs to keep them and their scents away from it. He bites down on his trembling lower lip and tries to pull his shit together.

Viktor and Katsuki speak in low tones on the ride from the airport. Yuri doesn’t listen to them as he stares blankly out the window. He’s too numb to care whatever stupid thing they’re talking to one another about. He’s too tired to care about the fact that they still have each other and Yuri is suddenly alone again.

He doesn’t even realize that they’ve brought him back to their place instead of taking him to Lilia’s home. He’s too tired to care about that either. 

They shuffle him inside and Viktor fills the silence with nonsense talk about lunch and tea and would Yuri care for anything? Yuuri guides him quietly down the hall, away from Viktor’s loud mouth and into the spare bedroom. The last time he’d been in here had been the weekend he and Otabek had stayed here. 

Yuri clutches Otabek’s hoodie tighter when Katsuki tries to ease it away from him.

“Don’t,” he snaps.

“Sorry,” Katsuki says quietly. “You should rest; you look tired.”

Yuri drops down heavily onto the side of the bed and bends himself over the bundle of Otabek’s hoodie in his lap. This isn’t the only thing that Otabek has left him with, but it’s the only one he has right now, and it still smells so strongly of him that Yuri can close his eyes and pretend that he’s just in the other room. That Yuri isn’t alone.

The bed dips beside him as Katsuki sits down. He doesn’t say anything as he sets a hand between Yuri’s shoulders and rubs gently. Yuri buries his nose in Otabek’s hoodie and clenches his eyes against the threat of tears. 

He won’t let himself cry. It’s only six weeks. He’d gone almost sixteen _years_ without Otabek before; this should be easy.

Their bond is stretched thin and burning like a physical thing in his chest. He knows that this will probably be the hardest day, the hardest hour, but the knowledge that it’ll get easier to be away from Otabek again doesn’t ease the ache inside of him. He breathes slowly, pulling Otabek’s scent in over and over until the tremor in his body starts to subside. 

Katsuki stays with him until he lies down and puts his back to him. Yuri is grateful that he doesn’t try to tell him that it’ll be all right or it’ll get easier, or any other number of worthless things. He knows they’re all true, no matter the pain of it now, but it doesn’t do him any good in this moment. Katsuki gets it, he thinks. 

Yuri sits up enough to pull Otabek’s hoodie on and tug the sleeves down until they cover his hands. He curls his fingers up by his nose and closes his eyes. He doesn’t wake up until his phone starts ringing with Otabek’s FaceTime call.

 

\--

 

Yuri doesn’t skate the next day, or the day after. He stays holed up in Viktor’s spare bedroom and only comes out to eat. Katsuki sits with him for a while the first evening, talking to him in his much improved Russian and doesn’t look offended when Yuri mostly answers him non-verbally.

At first, he’s glad that Viktor keeps his distance, as much as possible in the relatively small space they’re currently sharing. Yuri has the window open constantly, because Viktor’s scent permeates every square inch of the apartment, and he can barely handle it. He keeps Otabek’s hoodie on and the fabric pressed up against his nose until he can almost forget where he is. 

To say that he misses Otabek is a gross understatement. He misses absolutely everything about Otabek and what it means to have him around. The safety and security that Otabek gives him is gone, as is their space. Their bond is stretched thin and aches in his chest so fiercely that sometimes he can barely breathe for it. He’s bereft of Otabek’s presence, his understanding, the open ear he’d unconditionally provided, and soon he’ll lose his scent, too.

It’s not fair. None of it.

The second evening, however, when he lets the knock at the bedroom door go unanswered, he can smell Viktor before he pushes the door open. He keeps his back to Viktor and redoubles the effort he puts into staring blankly at his phone. The whole building is brand new and high end, so the floor doesn’t creak, but Viktor puts effort into making noise as he approaches the bed. Yuri clenches his eyes.

“There’s food for you in the refrigerator,” Viktor tells him quietly.

Yuri swallows around the lump in his throat. “Thanks.”

A long moment of silence passes between them. Yuri breathes through his mouth to keep from filling his nose with Viktor’s scent. It still gives him vague notions of _comfort_ and _home_ but now those things have different meanings to him. They mean _Otabek_ and the apartment they no longer share. He doesn’t want to replace those memories with Viktor or his bond with Katsuki.

“Can I sit?” Viktor asks, subdued and not at all his bubbly, obnoxious self.

It makes something throb in Yuri’s chest, something sharp and piercing, right behind his heart. He rubs hard at his ribs but the sensation doesn’t abate. His eyes grow instantly damp and he clenches them harder to ward it off.

When he doesn’t respond, Viktor sits anyway. “Can I touch you?” he asks instead.

Yuri shakes his head, digging his knuckles in between his ribs and pressing until his arm aches and he’s sure to leave a bruise behind.

“Is my bond breaking?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“No, Yurio,” Viktor says quietly. 

“It feels like it. Is this what happened to you? Is this why Katsuki moved here?” One of his knuckles cracks and a pained gasp escapes him. “Does Beka feel this too?”

Viktor’s hand settles gently on his side before it falls away. The relief of being touched again is gone almost immediately and he lets out a sob. Yuri stuffs his other fist against his teeth and bites down until he breaks the skin.

“ _Yuri_ ,” Viktor says, and even though it’s only one word, it sounds like he’s begging. 

Yuri turns suddenly, onto his other side, and presses his cheek to Viktor’s thigh. The throb behind his ribs doesn’t let up, but the weight of Viktor’s hand between his shoulder blades is an immediate comfort. He rubs at his chest as Viktor brushes his hair away from his face.

“It gets easier.”

“Is that why you moved Katsudon here? Because it gets easier?”

Viktor sighs, his fingertips tracing over Yuri’s eyebrow. “He moved here because I love him.”

The dampness spiking Yuri’s eyelashes together increases. “I love Otabek,” he says petulantly.

“And he moved here for you.”

“He left.”

“Yuri,” Viktor breathes, squeezing his shoulder. “Your bond will settle; the missing him will get easier. And I hardly think this is the end of him living here.”

As the pain in his chest lessens again, Yuri brings his hand up to rub at his eyes and then curls it against his chest. Viktor is warm and his scent is nothing but comforting, putting him at ease. He doesn’t know when he started breathing through his nose again but he’s too tired to care. Viktor cards his fingers through his hair over and over, lulling Yuri toward sleep with every touch. 

When he wakes, he’s alone, and Otabek’s hoodie has been folded and placed under his head.

On the third day, he walks back to Lilia’s under overcast morning skies. It’s too early to be hot, but the air smells like rain and he just wants to get back to his cat and crawl into bed. He knows he can’t drag around forever, and he’s going to have to get back to skating, but he wants just one more day to himself to feel his loss.

Lilia isn’t home when he lets himself in. All of his things are haphazardly spread around his room, and King is asleep on his pillow. Yuri kicks his shoes off and crawls up the foot of the bed until he’s sprawled out on his stomach. King meows at him and shifts around until he’s curled around Yuri’s head and licks at his eyebrow.

“Stop,” he murmurs, turning his head to the other side. The gesture may be affectionate, but King’s breath is terrible. The move doesn’t stop the cat from licking at his hair before he settles down to sleep again.

Yuri closes his eyes and tries to do the same. Otabek should be at the rink right now and Yuri won’t be able to speak to him again for another half hour or so. He’s so tired, the distance between them exacerbates the strain on their bond, leaving him exhausted, no matter how much he sleeps.

His phone buzzes in Otabek’s hoodie pocket and he groans as he reaches down to fish it out. Yuri props himself up on his elbows and pushes his hair back from his face, one hand encountering the wet spot King had licked.

“Gross,” he mutters, wiping his hand on the bedspread.

He taps the home button on his phone and then freezes. It’s an instagram notification of a direct message.

 **+guanghongji+:** Hey saw ur new photo shoot u look awesome! How was ur break???

Yuri stares at it, feeling a sudden surge of panic in his chest. He hurriedly unlocks his phone and calls Otabek. It rings through to voicemail; he tries again, and when that doesn’t work, he shoots off a text.

_Did you tell Guang Hong to message me? What did you say to him?_

The wait for a response is some special kind of hell. The minutes crawl by at a snail’s pace, dragging every single breath out into something jagged and painful in his chest. Otabek wouldn’t tell anyone about him. He wouldn’t, but he’s obviously said _something_. Why else would Guang Hong message him out of the blue when they’ve barely even spoken to one another in the past?

Yuri presses his nose against the sleeve of his hoodie and breathes in Otabek’s scent, already fading from the fabric. 

His phone ringing startles him, making him jerk his head up and King jump in turn. He almost knocks his phone out of his hand as he swipes across the screen to answer.

“I didn’t tell Guang Hong to text you,” Otabek opens with.

“You said something to Leo, then,” Yuri says indignantly.

Otabek heaves a breath that crackles over the speaker. “Leo texted _me_. We’re skating against each other next week and he wanted to know if I wanted to get food with him at some point. I didn’t mention you.”

“Then why would he just message me out of the blue?” Yuri knows he’s being too loud, half-frantic with his accusations, because he knows that Otabek wouldn’t lie to him, but what other reason would there be for it?

“Maybe Leo mentioned it to him. Maybe he noticed you liking his pictures and wanted to talk to you?”

 _Maybe he noticed what you’ve noticed in him and he’s pegged you for an omega, too,_ the voice in his head says.

Yuri’s fingers are clammy when he rubs at his eyes with them. “Why would he want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Otabek counters, his voice gentler than it was a moment ago. “Look at the lengths I went to to talk to you.” There’s self-deprecation there, but Yuri feels too shaky to chastise him for it. He loves the way that Otabek came after him in Barcelona; he’s never had anyone want to speak to him so badly before.

His throat clicks dryly as he swallows. “Beka…” he rasps, letting it trail off.

“I promise you I didn’t say anything, Yuri.” Then, “If you don’t want me to go out with them, I won’t. You know I wouldn’t put your secret in jeopardy. Leo won’t be angry.”

It takes a moment of slow, shaky breaths that feel entirely too shallow, before Yuri can find his voice and use it. “No. No, you should go, if you want to.” When he rubs at his eyes again, his fingertips come away damp. 

It’s another long, silent moment before Otabek speaks again. “Are you all right, Yurochka?” 

Yuri lets out his breath in a huff, halfway to a laugh he doesn’t feel. “I don’t know. Not really, I guess. I miss you.” The ache behind his ribs, somewhere near his heart, makes itself known again; Yuri grinds his knuckles against his chest in counterpoint. 

“I miss you too.” Otabek takes a breath like there’s more he wants to say but the words don’t come.

“I’m sorry I accused you,” Yuri makes himself say, feeling his cheeks burn with low-level embarrassment. “I panicked.”

“Forgiven.”

Yuri rests his cheek against his arm and closes his eyes. “Thank you.”

Otabek makes a quiet sound. “Are you going to respond to him?”

“I don’t know.”

“What did he say?”

Yuri shrugs, even though Otabek can’t see it. “Something about my magazine photoshoot.”

“The pictures must be up,” Otabek muses. And now that he says it, Yuri thinks he saw an email from Ilya yesterday; he’ll have to check, once he summons the energy.

“Read the article and tell me if I should read it.”

Otabek laughs quietly. “I will. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“My Grandpa will let me know if it’s not.”

Otabek makes a noise of agreement. Yuri’s so tired and Otabek’s voice is so soothing, dulling the throbbing ache in his chest and making him want to curl up and go to sleep. He shifts, getting more comfortable. 

“You should.”

“Should what?”

“Message him.”

Yuri considers it, as much as his sleep-deprived brain can. “Maybe.”

“He’s a nice guy,” Otabek tells him, just a statement and not at all pushing.

Yuri nods. “I’ll think about it.”

Someone yells in the background on Otabek’s end and then Otabek is sighing. “I’ve got to get back. I’ll be done and home in an hour; I can call you then?”

“Yeah, please.”

Otabek waits a beat. “Love you, Yura.”

“Love you, Beka.”

There’s another pause where Yuri thinks that Otabek might be building up to say something but the beep of the call ending follows shortly after. 

Yuri lets his hand drop to the side where he stares at his phone. The notification sits atop the instagram app, reminding him of its presence. He stares at it until the screen dims and then goes black. He doesn’t know what he should do. He knows what he wants to do and that’s respond to the message. If Otabek didn’t prompt Guang Hong to speak to him, then that means that he’d decided to message Yuri on his own. Guang Hong wants to talk to him. Maybe even be friends. 

And Yuri wouldn’t protest that, if he’s being honest with himself. He might even like it.

With a sense of determination, he unlocks his phone and opens instagram. Yuri stares at the message for a moment before he taps to reply.

 _Thanks. I haven’t seen them yet._ He hesitates there, unsure of what he should say about himself and Otabek. They hadn’t hidden their relationship over the summer and his fans had made absolutely certain to post about it obsessively on twitter, tagging him in every single thing they could. It’s more than likely that Guang Hong knows about it, but he’s still hesitant to talk about it in detail. He wakes up his phone again and adds, _Summer was good. Sad it’s over. How was yours?_

Before Yuri can talk himself out of it, he hits send and locks his phone again and sets it aside. He shoos King off of his pillow so he can curl himself around it and closes his eyes. He’s much more relaxed than he was earlier, having spoken to Otabek, even though the prospect of whatever this is with Guang Hong is kind of intimidating. Sleep is tugging at him and he doesn’t open his eyes when he hears the buzz of his phone again. 

He’ll check it after he gets off the phone with Otabek later. The thought is a warm and comfortable little thing against the ache in his chest, and Yuri falls asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the love and support! Come see me on tumblr and talk about YOI and Haikyuu with me :* Until next time, babes <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos mean the world to me! I will love and appreciate them all. Let me know what you think ❤


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